Confessions Of A Female Bodybuilder
Monday, April 25, 2011
By Sohee Lee
It wasn’t Arnold. It wasn’t Jay Cutler. It was a fit woman who graced on the cover of a fitness magazine on one fateful day of my childhood. She had it – the muscles, the leanness, the femininity, the confidence – all presented in one beautiful, breathtaking physique that was uniquely hers. Who was she? I don’t remember anymore, and it really doesn’t matter to me. What does matter is that one glance at her and my life was never the same.
Back then, I was an endurance runner. I was all about logging in those miles: 6 on my easier days, up to 16 on my harder days. Varsity cross country for 8 years straight surrounded by a culture in which the girls are starving themselves thin (or at least trying to). A day of rest was equivalent to a day of laziness to me, so I had none of that. The more I did, the better off I was, right? And the less I ate, the prettier I would be and the more people would like me. Every day was a constant uphill struggle to deprive myself of the foods that I loved and run myself into the ground, all in a futile attempt to achieve the perfect body of my dreams and finally, finally achieve some kind of inner peace. I was fighting a personal war against myself—trying to mercilessly force my body to fit the mold of what I thought, in my distorted view, was the way I should look.
I never got there, by the way. Not with the approach and the mindset I had back then.
All of that changed 3 years ago. It was the second semester of my senior year in high school, and I had logged thousands of days’ worth of misery by that point. I picked up that fitness magazine at the grocery store and devoured every word right then and there. I remember the first time I picked up a dumbbell in the weightlifting room. I was the only girl in there. The myths that I had been told – girls shouldn’t lift heavy because they will bulk up and look manly, running will give you the butt that you want, only high reps and light weights — it all came crashing down as I learned through experimentation and research that those “factoids” were far from the truth. I learned how to eat properly, and I learned the definition of effective training, a concept that had been previously foreign to me.
Now what? The former cardio queen has long since retired. Today, I’m a self-professed fitness buff. I train, eat, and live like a bodybuilder. I relish the feeling of my muscles being sculpted (though I am not huge by any means) and I throw around heavy weights: squat 165lbs, lunges with 40lbs in each hand, chest press with 50lbs in each hand, push press 110lbs. I despise cardio. I will never be found on an elliptical machine, and only on occasion will I begrudgingly pedal away on a stationary bike. As I type, I am 3 weeks away from a fitness competition, which entails my standing up on a stage and showcasing my hard-earned physique in front of an audience and a panel of judges. Who would have thought?
I’ve come a long way. I’ve moved leaps and bounds closer to achieving the body of my dreams since changing my training philosophy. I look athletic yet still have my curves. I possess the physical shape and the leanness that I so desired. I don’t care for the emaciated, feed-me-a-sandwich look; instead, strong is the new sexy.
My body is a temple, and I treat it as such. I invite you to do the same.
