Well, THAT threw you for a loop, didn't it?
I'm starting to appreciate mine.
When I was younger....much, much, much younger....the cool thing was NOT to have muscles, but to be tiny, feminine and hollow cheeked.
I come from a family (on both sides, really) with strong, muscular women. As a teen, I always hated wearing shorts or shorter skirts because my calves looked SO BIG! I stayed away from tank tops because my arms had noticable biceps. I couldn't wear leggings with the long shirts...it looked like I had sausages for legs! It was NOT cool to have muscles in the 80's....or the 90's....
When I lived with Yosts, and worked at the arena, Kellie Y. and I regularly packed portable corral panels, individually. (Made of pipe, about 5 feet tall and 10 feet long) We wanted very much to have Ty and George's approval and they did appreciate it, I think. And lifting the 50 pound gate to let steers in the chute certainly toned our arms up, since we did that about 400 times in a day, 2-3 days a week, 12 weeks in a row.
It came to our attention, though, that we were always the chute help and never the dates.
That's right! The delicate, feminine chicks went to the dances afterward, while we rubbed our sore muscles and fell into bed.
We got the big jobs that broke fingernails and made you smell like steers as early as 8 a.m.
Drats.
It appeared muscles were a big detriment, when dating cowboys.
(Real ranchers, however, choose wives BASED on their muscles and cooking ability...lucky for me!)
So most of my life, I've been ashamed of my muscular body, hiding anything that resembled a strong shape under long sleeves or jeans.
Heaven forbid I venture near a swim suit!
The last couple years, however, have changed all that.
First, it has become REALLY COOL to have muscles!
Have you picked up a Shape or Fitness magazine, lately? Or an Athleta catalog?
Muscles are becoming....well.....can it be?.....sexy!
Bout darn time!
And then, my daughter has been showing me her muscles.
She stretches, bends, flexes, runs and checks to see if they are bigger...
and asks me if I like her strong, fast legs.
They are beautiful, baby.
She delights, absolutely thrills, in the muscles I hated all my life!
They're a source of strength and beauty, a symbol of ability and speed!
Now, when I look in the mirror, I still first cringe and think, "too big".
But I've learned to look again, with kinder eyes.
I see arms that can still lift panels, carry growing children with ease, beat eggs, row a kayak and heave salt sacks.
I see my mom and my grandma.
I see legs that can run as far as I ask them, dance with great joy, act as springs when I ride the wheeler, climb hills, power a shovel, and kick balls back to my babies.
I see my Dutton cousins and great aunts.
I'm enjoying seeing what they can do, now that I've made peace with them.
I've found I'd much rather push them a little and feel them ache, than to neglect them and forget they're there.
I show Maggie my muscles, after she shows me hers, and she hopes that someday hers will be that big!
So do I.


