I Can't Keep My Hands Off Of Me

I admit it; I touch myself.

In the shower. In the bedroom. In the car; especially when I turn corners. Even in public! I can’t help it; my body feels really good these days.

Sometimes I even squeeze myself a bit! It’s hard not to when my biceps, after years of spongy, dimply chubbiness, are hard and defined. Yes, I’m not ashamed to say that when I lift something heavy or I turn the steering wheel hard and I see their firm definition, I cop a quick feel with one hand. Feeling the muscle flex under my fingers makes me smile, despite the likelihood that said muscles are aching from yesterday’s workout.

I’m sexy and I know it

I’m not alone. When WOD love announced the sale of shirts saying “I’m sexy and I know it” last week, a couple of girls admitted that they couldn’t keep their hands off their new buff bodies. That’s what happens when your body feels strong; you feel so damn sexy.

Who’s that hottie in the mirror?

It’s even gotten to the point where I check myself out. In the past I made sure I trained out of sight of any mirrors. Catching a glimpse of myself; fat jiggling and sweat oozing over my doughy arms as I huffed through a couple of kms on the treadmill; I felt as sexy and graceful as the Michelin Man on a pogo stick.

But not now! Now I’m planted right next to the mirror checking out my ass while I do squats. Who knew it could move like that?

Now just to be clear; it’s not really much firmer than when I started CrossFit, and it’s only a little smaller thanks to a gluten- egg- dairy-free diet that’s effectively crossed any food I actually enjoy eating off my can-do list. And yes, if you had to try bounce a coin off my ass, that coin would still disappear forever into some cellulite crater. But it feels like its riding high at the top of my – strong – legs like freshly baked buns, round and hot.

Does this couch make my ass look big?

The thing is that no matter what my body looks like to the world, to me it looks a crap load better practicing cleans that it does trying to load the maximum amount of dip onto my crisps on the couch. And regardless of whether or not my underarms do a little Mexican wave when I hang up the washing; they feel strong and sexy when I’m dangling from the pullup bar.

So yes, at some point when you see me in the mall, still jiggling slightly in all the wrong places, and you notice I’m admiring something in that window, you can bet that something might well be me. Because I know that strong is sexy, and that when I get home and I’m hoofing my way down the drive with a 25 kg bag of dog food hiked up on my shoulder, I’m going to be feeling my thigh muscles working with my free hand and belting out “I’m sexy and I know it” like a superstar; which, considering I don’t need to roll that 25 kg of dog food down the drive, I reckon I am.