tomboy.

Did you ever have a childhood imaginary friend? I did. His name was Tomboy.

He was among the many boys I played with in my childhood. Together, we played soccer during recess, climbed monkey bars at lunch, and on our own time, in the privacy of our homes we ran around topless, imagining ourselves to be karate black belts, knights and warriors, ninjas and monks. We were best friends, and being young as we were, no one questioned our close friendship. It was all pure, innocent fun, they reasoned. Or puppy love at best.

As we grew older and went to high school, we grew apart, as they expected we would. After all, as people grow, interests diverge, and so do ways. He continued to hang with the boys, and I the girls. We still chilled sometimes, but not as much. Spaces that used to echo with hysterical laughter, exciting adventure and boundless imagination are now filled with awkward silences that are filled with polite conversations.

People who knew us would some times ask about you. "How is he? You guys used to be so close! Have you hung out recently?"

"We're okay. I see him sometimes. We're different now, not as much to talk about."

But deep in my heart I missed him, and our distance hurts me.

For some reason I felt a need to maintain that we're no longer close like we used to be. I guess it's for propriety's sake. Him being a boy, and I a girl and all. It'll look funny if we're too close. People will suspect. And they will talk.

Besides, I didn't have time to make the effort to keep in touch anyway. I was preoccupied with other worries. My changing body and looks for one. Dating, or the idea of dating, for the other. He would just get in the way. Boys don't like seeing us too close. They get scared. Girls don't know what to make of us. They get confused.

Meanwhile, I grew discontent my my reflection in the mirror. I'm not pretty in ways that others expect me to be. There are ways, I suppose, to amend this. Things I can put on, clothes I can wear. But the image that results feel like a cage. Like a prison cell that I wear constantly on my body. It drew attention to places where I didn't want attention, from people I didn't want attention from. The added stuff limited my mobility and expression. But it seemed that no one noticed my discomfort but me. People approved, even, but I cringed inside.

No one understood my discomfort, which bordered on pain, not even myself. But I had a feeling that he might. And then I missed him dearly, and found a sudden, urgent need to see him and talk.

Seeing him was bliss. In front of him, I didn't need to wear heavy make up or tight dresses, and we just lounged comfortably in our sweats. Gosh I missed him.

He's changed a lot over the years. Like me, he's done a lot of growing.  While I struggled with my own reflection, he has grown handsome, and I envied him. I envied the way that his clothes did not hug him tight, but rather fell lightly over his athletic frame, subtly hinting at slim but tight muscles underneath. I liked the way his haircut exuded cleanliness and confidence, complementing his facial features. My heart is lit by his carefree smile, and I found myself inexplicably drawn to him, to the tenderness in his eyes, a tenderness so rare in boys his age.

Our eyes met. He held my gaze, and smiled. I smiled back, and knew that it was okay to reach out and touch him. I slowly extended my fingertips towards his face... and touched the surface of a mirror. Startled, I drew my hand back and looked again. And the mirror was still there, reflecting the image of myself, the image of him.

"Who are you?" I asked this sudden stranger, whom I thought I knew so well.

"I am you," he answered, "and I've been here the whole time, waiting for you to reach out and touch me."

And reach out I did, to this new image of myself. Sharp, carefree, confident, tender. And for the first time in a long time, I liked what I saw. I knew that not everyone will understand our union, there will be many who disapprove. But I also knew that there will be those who like what I'm seeing, and they will be the only ones that matter. "So you'll be sticking around this time?" I asked.

"I'll be around for good," he answered. And I felt so very reassured.

Progress Report - after week 4

After completing "week 4," exhaustion test result: 37 push ups in a row. Beginning week 5 in column B.
With only 6 weeks in the program, this may just be the first fitness program that I ever see through to the end!!!!

Thank You Letter

To all you beauty girls out there,

Whether you call yourself G, P, femme, straight, not-into-labels, or what-ever, if you have ever flirted with me, complimented me, dated me, danced with me, chatted me up, or otherwise shown some kind of attraction towards me, I want to tell you, thank you.

When I ask God why he would make me into someone who doesn't know, when they look into a mirror, who they want looking back, someone who doesn't know if they are a man or a woman, or want to be a man or a woman, or if they are happy being someone in between, a T, a B... I also have to thank him for making people like y'alls, who would find this mess attractive, even when even I myself don't know what I want to look like. You give me the courage to be myself, and to keep looking for who that myself is, or who that myself I want to be. That's priceless. And really, I can't thank you enough for it, but ya, really, thank you.

Addiction

Life is full of addictions, whether they are "sleazy" ones like drugs or alcohol, or more "noble" things like self-satisfaction of "knowing that you've helped somebody" at work. I think we are more or less, we human are driven by desires, which inevitably become our addictions.

Recently, I have fallen into a highly addictive activity called the improvement of body image. I have been addicted to various aspects of this activity at different points in time. For a while, I was into ear piercings. As I think I've reached the maximum capacity in my left ear (I need my right ear for talking on the phone and sleeping), I've moved on to haircuts and hair dyes, and expensive hair styling products. After ending up chopping off almost all my hair for a low maintenance haircut, my new hobby is working out, including activities like push-ups and yoga. 

It is common knowledge that piercings and tattoos are addictive, as you think you are improve yourself more by getting more things pierced and inked. I had no idea that body building can be addictive as well... as more muscles = better? While I am satisfied with my upper body development, I fear that eventually I will be dissatisfied with the limits of my female body in my pursuit of masculine beauty, that I am already addicted. 

Sometimes I think the parent's group have a point. If you have no word for something, no knowledge of something, then you simply cannot be. Maybe if I've never known about this thing called homosexuality, I might be dating guys... or just single. If I've never broken in the Chinese lesbian circle and learned about these people called tomboys I may have never realized that's the kind of expression of who I want to be, and left my hair long and the closet feminine. If I had never known about this thing called hormone therapy... the idea that I could be dissatisfied with the physical limits of my natural born sex... would never have occurred... 

Maybe I should have gone to a Catholic university =.=

Holy what power O.O

So now I'm doing week 4 of the hundred push ups program. Although I say I'm on week 4, actually I've been repeating weeks/skipping weeks/slacking for a while now. Yesterday I attempted to throw some punches, and my power shocked myself O.O My punch was so hard and fast and I barely had time to stop my arm from popping off my body! I will have to start practicing kung fu again... so the other muscles in my body have time to catch up with my push up muscles...

Getting excited!

That magic threshold

This week I finally feel like I'm recovering from mono. And boy do I feel powerful. I don't know what it is... the 30 minute youtube yoga that I've been doing... the handstand practices... or the Chinese medicine that my herbalist gives me for the mono has some kind of illegal/magical ingredients... but there has been a noticeable change in my body. My muscles feel firmer, and the pushups routine has suddenly become much easier. I can complete the sets without much difficulty, and I don't have sore muscles the next day. I am supposed to do set 3/week 3 tmr.. and last night I was able to do 30 pushups in a row after first four sets...

I think 100 push ups is not impossible after all. I'm looking forward to this.

Oops

It wasn't until I tried commenting on someone else's blog post that I re-discovered that I had this blog (and that I was doing the push ups challenge). Wow I have almost forgotten about it after Christmas break.

So where am I now, with this push-ups thing?

Actually, I've made more progress that I thought. Although I am now stuck on week 3 and week 4 (I do one of the sets randomly once in a looooooooooooong while), I no longer have sore muscles after a day of exercise. There is a definite improvement in the one of my arms and chest muscles.While on my initial test I had sore muscles the next day after doing 20 push ups, I can now do 20 push ups with relative ease, and do a couple of sets of them without sore muscles the next day. I will need to re-commit to the program to make further progress though, I'm sure.

But one thing that I've really noticed with the push ups program was the importance of stretching. Having chest muscles firming quickly also means that they are tightening quickly, and this has had a negative impact on my posture and accentuated neck and shoulder soreness. This is where I discovered yoga. Yoga has done wonders for my broken body, increasing my flexibility, easing tight muscles, and correcting my posture.

With school going out soon, I will begin the program anew with week 3. Goodluck to me, and to all who are trying to get fit and stay fit.