Today was a bank holiday, so I booked an aerobics class in the morning, with both swordfighting and dancing in the evening. 🤸♀️🤺💃
I told folks at the dance class all I was doing today, and their mouths dropped open, and one said "but after Monday you're going to have a rest, yes?"
Oh no, my friend. I am not.
It's funny because as a kid my parents were constantly trying to push me to be more sporty. I was the black sheep of the family; the klutz who would rather be in front of a computer than a football.
It all changed when I transitioned. I finally gave myself permission to be who I always should have been... and to my surprise that person turns out to be very much my parents' daughter. Turns out when my body feels like my own, I want to be proud of it. I want it to push it to be faster and stronger, I want to have endurance and control. I want to use it to do everything I set my mind to. I finally understand the point of what they were pushing me to do.
Which does not invalidate the goofy, nerdy kid I was. Just like my favourite childhood superhero, Spider-Man, I'll always be an awkward geek (coughautisticcough) at heart. Only he got his powers from radioactive spider venom, and I got mine from estrogen. 😅
Or maybe the magic serum is just self-acceptance. The conflict between my inner and outer self is resolving, and everything is so much easier now.
I'll have to slow down eventually; this body is already middle-aged, and damaged from decades of not treating it very well. But for now, I'm making up for lost time.
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