*Note: Boys, you might want to avert your eyes. This post contains girly-specific information.*
There are many cool things about being a chick, mostly having to do with fashion opportunities and intuition, like
- black eyeliner and lots of mascara
- leopard print clothing and accessories
- the ability to wear high heels or Converse, as the mood strikes
- pretty underthings with lace and sparkles and other doodads
- having empathy
- the opportunity to be both nurturing and practical
Balancing it all out?
Plus, the bloating, moodiness, carb and salt cravings, sleeplessness, and the belief that no one has ever been uglier, loser-y-er, or lamer than you. Ever, ever, ever.
Simple tasks become difficult. Difficult tasks are nearly impossible. Dropping things is de riguer, and there is no table corner, no doorway, no step, no ledge that is not an elbow- or knee- or shin-bashing hazard. Hail the new bruises, not earned through athletic triumph but via hormone-induced clumsiness.
These are the gifts of receding estrogen and progesterone.
Every four weeks, like a fucking clock, tinkered into sadistic perfection by the devil himself.
Which made my our CrossFit Women indoor workout all the more challenging for me this morning. I’m proud to say I muscled through it with a decent if not buoyant attitude, but I’m now thisclose to fetal position on the couch with some Pamprin and a cuppa hot tea.
CrossFit Women WOD
5 rounds for time:
- 20 med ball knee slam situps, 6 lbs.
- 5 in & outs
- 8 thrusters, 55 lbs.
My time: 14:00-something
- 10 hip extensions
- “try to get to an L-sit but start with just a tuck” on the parallettes, 10 seconds (I got the tuck — any leg extension is a long way off)
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