Category Archives: Life

East Coast


Lana Del Rey West Coast
The night is sultry
The night is sultry

Our eyes are lovely
Our hearts are hungry

Under the stars
Blanket of stars

The city lights
Washington Heights

Vanilla skin
Vanilla skin

Melts on mine
Swells on mine

A slow chorus
A slow chorus

Freshly fine
Every time

-Pennington©

Nymphomaniac


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It’s wonderful, in my opinion, to see how much of myself I could relate to in the character of the film Nymphomaniac throughout both volumes, from growing up and taking charge of every decision, single-handedly based on her terms, her rebellious nature, her moments of aloofness, her philosophy of lust and her avoidance of love, her emotions being thrown like a whirlwind into the act of sex, her destructions of interpersonal relationships, her views on society and how humanity can be summed up in one word:  Hypocrisy.

So much of me, belong to this character and it astonishes me that a director has taken the time to put together the story of this woman who I look at as a heroine.  I never once pitied or judged her although she managed to critique herself harshly and understandably so.  But what I do take away from the film itself is, in society, I think people are given two choices.  The first is you could play the game based on the terms and conditions of society as long as you’re faking happy to keep the image of conformity intact.  Or the second:  You can be an outcast.

I think her struggles are very real and of course society doesn’t let up on the notions of how she should behave, for instance when one of her bosses demanded she get help for her sexual addiction.  Its constant questioning, steady debating on what’s right, what’s wrong and according to whom?  The beauty is in how she stands up for herself in her ball of strong integrity despite the gnawing loneliness she possesses or those in the path looking to disgrace her light whether done subtle or forwardly.

She fights for herself because to put it simply it’s about survival.

-Pennington

Fanboy


SheHulk_COVER_IN_LIVIN_COLOR_by_BroHawk

I feel kind of bad when I push compliments off to the side by men who love women who body sculpt, bodybuild or weight-lift.  Sometimes it feels like a defense mechanism to my strong hatred towards men.  But it is what it is and it goes something like this.

It usually starts the same way, with an inbox message and a quotation mark smile, “You look great” and goes on to say “I always loved your arms, pec and back.  You’ve been getting leaner without losing size and that’s great!”  This should all be a good thing, right?  It’s awesome to hear!  It’s nice that there are people (actual strangers!) who have been following my training journey and I’m forever grateful.  But I’m not going to lie and say I don’t have a problem with certain underlying issues.  I guess I have trouble accepting the type of person and not so much the male gender in this case?

On one hand this guy we’ll call Han could stare at my photos all day for some reasons known but more reasons unknown yet rarely asks me questions about my life and when he does ask me, it shows he’s not interested in me per say.  He’s another person who’s more into the fantasy of who he believes I am than who I am in reality.  And generally I don’t respect people who don’t respect to learn anything about my life.

The second thing about this guy is just how he thinks lifting and gaining muscle comes easy for me.  He boasts about me and my body as if he couldn’t be doing the same or more.  When I ask him, “Why do you think it’s difficult to gain muscle?”  He says, “Well, it requires a lot of work, lifting heavy day in and day out and eating right.”  So he admits to the truth and I appreciate it and he has courage, but I bet he doesn’t realize how poorly he appears to someone like me.

He asks, “Do you think it’s easy to gain muscle?”  I said, “At first I didn’t think it was easy to gain muscle.  But now I know what it takes, so no, I believe anyone could do it and gain muscle.  It’s like you said it takes a lot of dedication and discipline.”  He goes on to say, “Yeah, I think that’s the difference.  Some people can do the hard work and be dedicated but for some it’s too much.  It’s one of the main reasons why I’m such a big fan of yours because you make it all look easy.”

Now don’t get me wrong, I adore anyone who adores me and would worship me at the drop of a dime.  But what I’m saying is it’s hard to respect someone like this as a person, probably because I’m judgmental or an asshole?  And I’m aware it’s my problem and not theirs.  As a result, I guess it comes easy to shoo away the compliment than hold it to a higher regard because I like someone who gives a shit about my life and believes in working out hard “physically-speaking” as oppose to being a bystander and idling watching, being fine and dandy settling just to be a fan.

-Pennington

Nymphomaniac Vol 1


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“Perhaps the only difference between me and other people is that I’ve always demanded more from the sunset.  More spectacular colors when the sun hit the horizon.  That’s perhaps my only sin.”

-Nymphomaniac Vol 1

Rummaging Gym Eyes


marvel rummagng eyes
Before I begin, I rummage with my eyes a cold grill with the intent to feed on anyone who steps in my personal space.  Anyone who glares at me from a distance gets the fuck you look as well because I share this gym with the rest of everybody.  I forge my right to be here by the numbers, by the purpose of colossal concentration, by the visualization of the day and the body action at night.  I grip the steel of the dumbbell and I surge with immeasurable power before a single rep has been executed or an exercise exercised.  It all starts in the mind.

It may be the luck of being a woman, or a dependent on the man, who stands in front of me, but, there are times where I display my puppy dog eyes big and wide and remain uncomplaining, waiting by a bench like a sit dog sit until their hearts soften and they pass the bench along to me entirely without a moments hesitation.  I thank the stranger and smile with a queen’s happiness and during his training session I’ll boost his ego (and he’ll train harder) for being nice to me by staring him up and down attentively while he strengthens his temple.

Now I’m seated with an angry face and underneath my baggy shirt from the mirror I can see my muscles working, how glorious they look, tenacious, pumped and embellished.  To the left of me, I gaze at my arm in motion, performing an incline bicep curl nonchalant as taking a selfie in public.  To the right of me, an array of men peers onward with a combination of riddled emotions and contemplated expressions.

And in the background, there’s a woman highly amused by the numbers on the weight I’m lifting.  She can’t for the life of her stop looking at my face and the unleashing of effort that cannot be contained.  She can’t stop watching the way I grate my lips with violent teeth noticing how my mouth turns sweltering red when I come close to failure.

Who knows if it’s out of delight
she observes or
if the very thought
of my passion
gives her nausea
through her eyes?

-Pennington

Gymtimidation in Planet Fitness


planet fitness
I’ve recently written a post about the positives of Planet Fitness, but this entry is dedicated to that one negative issue I’ve happily come across more times than I care to share.  I find it comical how the people who market and advertise lustfully say Planet Fitness is indeed a judgment free-zone forget to mention that it is a judgment free-zone and gymtimidation is alive and booming in the gym.

Why?

Because judgment
takes place by gym members
who train IN the gym.

I had quite a few unpleasant experiences in many different gyms, but in particular, Planet Fitness takes the cake not far from where I live (there are 3 locations around).  Now I assume this gymtimidation occurs because these machismo men are machismo men.  Most are Hispanic and some of these Hispanics prefer their women to be, look, smell like flowers and femininity.  They don’t appreciate my snot-rockets; scratching my crotch or watching me lift the same amount as them or more.

I had a few machismos wait until I was done with my set as I saw them staring me down from the peripheral while performing chest presses and as I set down my dumbbells took the opportunity to say, “You want to look like a man?  Why are you lifting like one?  You’re going to have very big muscles if you continue your path to lifting heavy.”  A few times, I’ve made sarcastic remarks or just simply nod my head and continued to train much harder so they could feel the force within my space until they became bothered and upset they’d leave my presence.

Tonight in the middle of my shoulder pressing, rowing and supersetting push ups on the bench I was moving on to the next exercise where I was stopped short because I couldn’t find the rope I needed and became quickly surprised by the pleasant experience I received in Planet Fitness since there’s only been a few.

I actually had a group of men, all individuals and perfect strangers trying to help me out to get an attachment for the Face Pulls without my asking.  All despite my trying to bully a girl for her rope attachment assuming she wasn’t lifting anything at all (and performing an exercise she doesn’t need yet because of her high body fat) and despite blurting out SHIT loudly in some guy’s ear when I realized he was about to use the rope attachment I needed; these people decided to help a bitch out!

Luckily and gratefully, a man was watching the entire deed unfold as one Hispanic guy suggested using another attachment and another looked around the gym though I never hinted for him to do so, but in the end, one guy wrapped up his sets rapidly and signaled for me to take the rope attachment and we exchanged the respect of head nods while we both went on our way.

For a moment, I forgot I was in Planet Fitness and was astounded to receive some love from other fit men.  I guess, I shouldn’t assume that every time I clock in and out of PF I’ll bump into creeps, pricks and egotistical men who aren’t into womanly boys and women lifters.

This evening was a good night with no form of judgment placed or gymtimidation within sight and I had a tremendous workout destroying my body with extreme focus to no end.  I just wished advertisements wouldn’t lie to people, especially since some people may not be able to rise above the stupidity of pricks or take the higher road of not smashing their face in with a fucking dumbbell.

Cheers! ;-)

-Pennington

How Did Fitness Change My Behaviors, Thoughts, Who I Date and How I Masturbate?


This is kind of a semi-list of things that have differed since I’ve been in the world of fitness.  This isn’t a complete list mind you and this isn’t in any order.  I find it interesting to take up a lifestyle and see how many things altered then after.  How have YOU changed since your lifestyle change?

1.  I’ve tripled my confidence with broad shoulders and Popeye forearms.  I probably no longer care about my large breasts being a spectacle anymore for some.  I rely on mass.

2.  On every social media site I’m on I make sure it involves and dominates a whole culture of fitness.  I can tell those who are closest to me get annoyed by it.

3.  I look for artists who draw worthy physiques.  I watch cartoons of bravery, courage and more fit bodies.  I find myself looking up to superheros.

4.  It’s hard to find people the opposite of repulsive if they don’t workout or attempt to change some of the things they eat and drink.  This includes my favorite aunt, it’s hard not to look upon her like a complete pig by the atrocious food she eats and by all the illnesses that’s caught up with her as a resort of it, not to mention zero exercise.

5.  I don’t want sitting down work.

6.  I stand more in the train; probably due to brainwashing and saying my glutes will flatten.

7.  I used to date overweight men.  Not anymore.

8.  I now feel a man must take care of themselves by being physically active and as frequent as possible.  There should be zero reason why a man has a gut; he isn’t a woman who carries additional fat and estrogen.  A man has testosterone and should put it to use as much as possible, if he’s overweight than he’s lazy in probably every aspect of his life.

9.  A man I date must have muscles now.  If they don’t, I will assess their potential and along the line make them feel like complete shit about their bodies until they do something about it.

10.  If a man has lack of conditioning, I don’t expect him to have sex with me properly.  So, I guess, I consider this a deal-breaker.

11.  I probably have become a bully in some ways.  I have a brother and a few boy cousins who can attest to this firsthand wrath.  Still, maybe I’ve always been (never to truly weak people) a bully and coupled with my feminist and Dom tendencies, it’s not a real wonder why.  An example of a form of small bullying:  When a guy (could also be a coworker) is smaller than me or has less muscle mass I grab him by the back of the neck and shake him up like a rag doll.  Or I literally push smaller guys around so their heads jerks forward while the rest of their body flings back.

12.  I only have 2 pairs of jeans since my journey and adventures with fitness.  I have a hard time trying to get jeans past my calves than my quads.  It’s much easier to get a cotton shirt, baggy shorts and comfortable sweat pants.

13.  Since I started fitness, over time I realize I went from sanitary napkins to tampons, weak deodorant to heavy deodorant, to carrying hand sanitizer and additional locks in my book-bags for gym locker rooms.

14.  I can’t bring anyone in my circle of life who doesn’t know their worth, who doesn’t move forward, who isn’t looking for personal growth, isn’t striving to live the life of being discipline, lacks passion or tolerate bullshitters.  Thanks to fitness!

15.  The more muscles I get, the more I’m able and actually desire to be more of a woman.  Therefore I paint my nails often enough, wear spandex from time to time and wash my hair more than once a month.

16.  I learned a thing or two about patience.  Still learning.

17.  I’ve achieved great orgasms by rubbing on my DOMS while masturbating.  You should try it some time, delectable pain and pleasure.

-Pennington

I’m in It: the Gym and I Can’t Get Out!


Dead It!
I had these crazy doubts after the shift in hormones over the course of a few months.  I felt like I was held hostage by life for a moment while I struggled to regain my whole self again.  It’s now safe to say I’m no longer tear-jerking myself over Grey Anatomy episodes or telling my Partner in Crime I want to marry him as soon as possible.  I may be back to what I know as my normal self, the kind who does none of what I just mentioned.

Okay so my body’s chemistry threw me for a loop and for a long period of time I thought I would just continue getting fat while losing hard-earned muscle.  I thought I would continue eating sugar and wanting to make out with Coke and Tang on a regular basis.  I thought I would never be motivated to workout once more let alone find my inner beast to blaze me back up.

Then one night I said, “Fuck it!” and decided on Monday cardio, and on Tuesday I did even more cardio, except I refused to be a cardio bunny and leave the gym without caressing and groping the weights.  Training arms seemed like a good place to start to see if I could get over my foolish uncertainties of being a weightlifter again.

I wrapped my hand around the dumbbell and performed a One-arm Overhead Tricep Extension and the motion flowed gracefully and every rep became about cherishing each contraction and cherishing the blood surging through my veins and cherishing the pleasant out-and-in-and-in-and-out body experience.  Without a second thought I moved right into barbell bicep curls and lifted the weight passionately as everything I put my heart into.

All in all it came back to me like riding a bike and I couldn’t ask for anything else to accompany me in this moment.  I became alive as day and any thought of pacing myself with exercises, equipment, reps or poundage went right out the gym entrance along with every one of my insecurities and qualms.  I was back at my one true home!

From school I started to head straight to the gym and in my mind I’m in a dark corner in the center of the room because my ego places me there.  I have an imaginary audience yet I tune out the real life folks all around me in the gym like an awful lecture coming from a married-in uncle who tried to molest me once upon of time by cold lust. I.  Just.  Tune.  Everything.  The. Fuck.  Out.

The music that was blaring in my headphones suddenly vanished once I positioned my feet under the barbell square in the middle with a stance almost narrow.  I make no fancy flailing or martial arm movements and I make no thunder roar like a powerlifter.  I remain powerfully silent, looking at both sides from where the stained rings are on the barbell steel and with one hand over and the other hand under I roll the bar so it pushes the excess accumulated calluses towards the rest of my palm so it fits snugly to one side and won’t rip open.

I look straight at the mirror but I don’t even see myself in it. I can see clothes. I can see broad shoulders.  I can feel glorious energy multiplying.  But it’s time to get into that low squat and it’s time to pull the barbell up and on my shins, time to maintain focus to deadlift with my traps, lats and entire posterior chain on mental command so my body does exactly what I desire.  I nail it.  I nail it.  I nail it.  I nail it over and over and over again.  I’m happy like a kid in a candy store like a woman who just achieved her first orgasm by the tongue of a man like a fat kid with a buffet of food.  HAPPY!

At certain moments I pulled and held my breath and then I started to see myself in the mirror.  I could see how ugly I look with a deadly mixture between being a woman, a man and a beast.  I felt my abdominals cave in and tighten itself within as if I were about to get hit by a baseball bat and I continued pulling.  During one of the reps I felt pain bordering by the side of my spine and my mind in quick fear blinked the word danger.

I felt my fingers fatigued and go into a frozen state while my forearm stiffened like I imagine a snake’s body would if it were to be lit by fire and around a tree bark or some human’s neck holding on for treasured life.  I felt my body like this many times before trying to go against me by breaking form.

And all I know is this is how I feel like when I’m all up in Kanye West’s song when he says, “I’m in it and I can’t get out” except he’s talking about orgasms and the lovely things that come along with sex.  However that’s exactly how I feel.

I’m in it and I can’t get out of the gym because it’s my strength and my therapy.  It’s my happy place, my go-to home!  The gym is where I go to deal and/or get rid of my doubts and concerns.  The gym is the place where I continue to forge my character.  The gym gives me my sanity back.  It’s my constant haven, not to mention it’s an orgasm away from an actual orgasm.

chesticles

Thankfully! :D

-Pennington

Missing Myself


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Here’s the truth:  Over the course of 2 months I’ve lost interest in everything.  A big part of this happened due to the unexpectedness of life and mostly because I was losing what I consider to be my identity at the core to strange and newer thoughts and to feelings I would never even give a seed to sprout from.

I went from power poses to vulnerable ones.  I went from an assertive voice to a squeak of a mouse.  I went from eating like a beast to eating like a tiny bird.  I went from being sure and proud of every decision I come to make up to now to drowning in what others wanted for me over night.  And how was I not myself?

It wasn’t until this week where I started to listen to music again.  It wasn’t until this week where I let nature come into my heart once more and touch my face and allowed it to perk up every one of my senses again while I paced myself from short travels or long city walks.

The only thing that has gotten me out of bed has been the productivity, the goal of going to school to get one degree so I can get another.  And it’s whatever works, whatever gets you through to the next day so one doesn’t feel reckless.  But I’m still out of control, I’m still holding onto negative views and I’m out of order when it comes to concentration.  It’s completely unlike me and if it wasn’t for my inner strength I would imagine I’d let go because all I feel is alone.

The last few nights I’ve taken mere opportunities to perform some bodyweight squats because in the back of my head I’ve brainwashed myself to move it or lose it.  Not too long ago before I knew what I knew I had taken a week off from having a troubling head/chest cold and Dark Knight being the strict personal trainer he is at the time made sure to pat and grope my ass to say, “Just checking.  It still feels firm.”  And of course I could have cursed him out and brought up the double standard views of genders except I didn’t because I understand what it means to be this way.  But the reality is there are countless factors that determine how quickly strength or physical looks are to diminish and I’m not within that realm of possibility.

Now I have to be smart and heal from the procedure I had on Monday.  I’m looking at (hopefully) another 2 weeks and if lifting heavy steel wasn’t an issue enough, there’s the not having actual penetration part either.  Oh goodie!

I could only remember the last few workouts I had in the beginning weeks of January.  One was working out with an acquaintance of mine (I forced him) and we worked out upper body until I caught a dead arm and until he pretty much tapped out on going set after set.  After we were done I had to pressure him to hydrate like a camel and eat something because he was coming down with chills as he did his best to try and keep up with me for every single static hold, rep, pyramid set and every other compound exercise while losing track of time.  We never made it to the movies.  But I was high and delighted as if I had an orgasm with merry smiles. Fuck me! I even caught people wishing they could be my training partner since the eyes never lie.

I remember the second workout was in my house where I supersetted (E-Z Curl) Small Barbell 40lbs (all I have at home) Squats with Push ups for as many sets as I could give as I was struggling to breathe still from a really bad hacking cough and lungs constricted where I needed my asthma pump from time to time.  Then I threw in Pauline Nordin’s The Butt Bible right after that workout to make sure I felt as if I worked all angles on my legs and glutes.  It did the trick because after all was done I felt orgasmic and wiped out once again.

I’m quick to believe for a moment (due to freaking out!) that once I reach a certain degree of shit that I can’t turn back and do what I used to do the way I’ve always done it (which is total bullshit by the way)!  It makes me as happy as receiving oral sex to now eagerly daydream about going back to the gym.  I feel I’m ready mentally, not yet physically.  But I can’t wait to bring a new attitude and vigor to my sets with various movements.  I can’t wait to steal the limelight from others who are working next to me.  I can’t wait until I feel somewhat sexy again.  I can’t wait to feel the blood pumping throughout my body making me feel beastly and edgy and powerful.  I can’t wait!

It’s strange to feel like I’m sitting on the bench for something that was out of my control.  I don’t ask life why anymore.  I stopped that.  One reason is because it sounds beyond melodramatic and I’m sure there are lessons in place for me as much as there are mistakes.  But even though I told myself not to deny anything I feel during this delicate emotional and mental moment I have to move slow although I really just want to move on to a different chapter in my life.

Still I have a friendly jealousy towards all the amazing people who are working out currently and I get to watch their progress on Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr and Instagram.  No matter what social media I’m on there’s fitness at every turn.  I’ve been enjoying some folks who have been taking the time out to send me their photo improvement as well.  They don’t know that underneath it all they’re feeding me constant energy and therefore are inspiring me.

The other truth is:  I’m determined, passionate, have good work ethics, have a thirst for more so I’ll never be able to truly let go. I’ve never been a weak person.  I’ve always had and continue to have a fire in me that won’t quit.  So in the end I’ll get through this as everything else I’ve gotten through in my life.  However this time around and to take a quote from Country Strong I want to, “Fall in love with as many things as you can (or possible).”  I want to give that a go too and maybe we all should?

And as far as tonight goes I’m flirting much with the idea of Yoga.  How much strain could it possibly put my body through right?  I will do something therapeutic this late evening like cook dinner and make tacos. ;)

P.S.

If you manage to read this all on your first time:  Thank you!  And even if you didn’t, thank you anyway!  And if you come here to check my page out regularly enough to read it thank you!  And if this is your first time on my page:  Thanks for coming aboard at this moment! :D

-Pennington

There


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And perhaps I was calling you on every single day of the year subconsciously.  There was an unrelenting chime in the air, a love attraction frequency of high desire on the balloon of my aura and on the ointment I placed on the nude of my wrists with your presence on it.  You changed over night with a hunger that consumed your own calmness and forced out your desperation at the temple of my being where I looked down on you for once my sweet giant.

But I remember being with this other guy, my temporary high in the backseat of a car and there a moonlit sky shining through the glass and the police and the skunks of the night patrolled both making their own rounds.  I was with an obsessive mature man posing his green werewolf eyes on the unclothed parts of my skin where he seared it with established longing for my youth.  We made out heavy covering the light of the moon with fog; our faces were flushed, our jaws wide open and our tongues jolting of wild electricity.

And he had this magical way of knowing how to bring me closer to him with just his fingertips on the ends of my hair.  Oh how he caressed my hair like a woman with softness like strolling with minimal clothing through a garden of delicate flower petals to feel the sensations of nature.  He was finding his way down, my shirt in custody by the mass of my breasts and he nibbled the entire space of my stomach grabbing onto the sides of my curves.  And I shook and shook in pleasure similar to the first time I received foreplay when I was twelve but I watched his own saliva strings at the corner of his mouth being overran by happiness.

Perhaps I was calling you on every single day of the year subconsciously as I do even now.  It’s why I feel you bother and visit me in my dreams on most nights.  Bet it’s why you called me at 4am, your maniacal self because just as I do, you feel me there.

-Pennington