Since being sick I have turned into… SLOTHGIRL. I can’t even be bothered explaining. Why am I here? I JUST WANT TO SLEEP.
I can’t remember the last time I went running. I just go for ‘walks’ now. WALKS! What am I, crippled now?
And my arms? You mean these things? *Flops noodles onto desk*
Ah, yes. And my stomach muscles. After my flu I was amazed at how flat my stomach was. Wow! What a difference! But then it dawned on me…
It wasn’t the fat I lost. It was the muscle. All I have is a layer of skin protecting my internal organs from mushy mushy. The thought of getting punched at sparring tonight is making me cringe. I’ve got a crinkly potato chip for a face right now.
It doesn’t help that every time I’m in the middle of working out, I get a visit from the Exercise Patrol. I’m on the floor, doing push ups, and I see feet pop up to greet me. They speak to me. They like to say, “What are you doing?! You’re sick!”, all in my father’s voice.
FYI, I have been sick for more than a week. I have been doing minimum exercise for far too long, spacing out my exercise and stopping frequently. But even when I’m healthy, I have my parents in the background clucking their tongues in disapproval. “Why are you torturing your body?” “Don’t do that, you’re too skinny” “Don’t run anymore, it’s not nice to have muscles”.
I know they are looking out for me. But it just seems excessive. I do my research and I understand my body. I push my limits but slow down when I need to. I know I can be reckless at karate, but I’m supervised then and we know when enough is enough. But at home, I’m much safer and I take care of myself.
So it’s a little frustrating to have your parents freak when you so much as lift a pillow. They think my vagina will fall off if I lift heavy things at home. They also get seriously angry when my brother punches me in the stomach. They must have their anatomy wrong because my ovaries aren’t that high up. My brother and I just continue in silence, remembering that while this is normal in the dojo, it’s certainly a surprise for your parents to see your little girl get hit. But let’s not forget that it was my father who suggested I do karate. We both just didn’t think I would love it so much.