Tag Archives: Health

Pelvic Floor Dysfunction


I knew something was strange every time I laughed or tried to do a sumo deadlift and tinkled myself.  I knew something was strange when I felt like I had to urinate faithfully around the clock.  I knew something was strange when I suddenly started to experience pain during intercourse.  In the morning upon waking, there’s a dull pain in the center of my stomach that stretches deep into my pelvis.  It plants itself there like a kentia palm.  At the same time, the mid-lower back pain stretches out to the side wrapping itself around my lat, not to mention the top of my buttocks and hips.

It took years to understand what the hell was going on with me.  Why I felt completely exhausted after sleeping 8 hours?  Why my moods were shifting quicker than I could say bipolarism?  Why its been so easy to abandon my fitness goals and sessions?  Why did I feel like I was trying to walk through brain farts daily?  Why all this pain?

Thankfully a visit to the handsomest urologist gave me his recommendation to see his friend who’s also a urologist but deals with women’s sexual health.  It was there where I was greeted by a real life perky sitcom character Karen Walker.  She checked out my vulva, took my urine through a catheter on the spot (with my permission of course) and complimented me on my Kegel.  Then she said, “You have Pelvic Floor Dysfunction.  Don’t worry.  It’s fixable!”  I was prescribed a physical therapist who specializes in PFD.  Also, testosterone gel, which is made by a chemist (therefore making it extra tailored and super expensive) for my vulva.

Coupled this PFD along with my growing fibroids (which I was told to ignore if they don’t grow) and it’s no wonder why I’ve been wanting to pull my hair out of my goddamn head for so long.  My fibroids have grown to the point where they have taken my uterus out of its place and is now sitting behind my bellybutton.  The clusters of fibroids have enlarged my uterus making my stomach protrude.  On my medical record it states that my fibroids are well into 14-16-week pregnancy.  So, I’ll see a surgeon next month.  God willing.

Well, for the longest time, I thought I was secretly dying.  Turns out, at least for the moment, I’ve been on a tumultuous ride with hormones.  Keeping a positive outlook has been extremely challenging.  I can’t tell you how long I felt hopeless and completely isolated from the rest of the world.  Of course, I kept praying for answers, for guidance and for the right doctors to come in my path, so I can get the ball rolling.  My prayers have been answered.  Things are rolling.  I’m finally not holding my breath anymore.

I’m moving forward with new breath within me.

-Pennington

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Barrier Break


A year and a half ago my life changed when I fell backwards on the skateboard and my foot got caught in the back of my other leg just before my bodyweight came crashing down on it and I broke my ankle.  My life changed just because I wanted to have fun, just because I desired to take risk, just because I desired to feel emancipated.  I made a choice despite peer pressure.  I made a choice despite my beginner status.  I made a choice because of adrenaline because of confidence and that single moment changed my life in a nanosecond.

After the cast, wheelchair, crutches and learning how to walk all over again I became afraid of everything from tying my sneakers to going outside.  I also didn’t like anyone.  I felt I couldn’t relate anymore with others.  The people who I thought would be there when the chips were down weren’t even there.  So I kept myself in isolation because this felt easiest.  I wasn’t feeling the world.  During the process I questioned the world.  I debated on my entire existence.  I no longer identified with the biggest part of my life – fitness.  I only identified with healing and recovery.

So I became afraid of everything living in a repeated trauma.  The body is an amazing machine.  Still, the psychological portion is where my issue exists.  For a good amount of time I didn’t want to walk on my crutches from fear of injuring and falling again.  After the cast came off and I could walk without an extreme limp I had the problem of wanting to step in the shower because I could slip in there too.  To this day I fight through many different mental and physical barriers.  I tell myself, “I’m a warrior.  I’m fine.  I can do this.  Everything will be okay.”

But no matter how wintry or full of spring it is, going outside is another battle because stepping on or stepping off the curb sends an apprehensive trigger within.  Then in a split second an image appears with a thousand ankles all lined diagonal breaking at the same time and the bones make a big sharp crunch sound.  This is where I remain frozen.  I get lightheaded.  I feel the panic and anxiety creeping like mad ants throughout my entire body.  I stand on the sidewalk like a lost little lamb trying to hide my terror from everyone outside.  I stand under the shade for 5-20 minutes or find the nearest bench I can sit and rely on.  I try to shake it out my head like it’s the nightmare it has been for over a year plus but it’s painfully difficult.  I wonder when these fears and worries will take flight?

Time, strength, online friends, partner support and my current therapist have been by my side.  I had to break wall after concrete wall in order to get to an elevated place.  What I learned is recovery comes in different stages.  Healing takes forever and a day even with positive self-talk.  Now I have to push through a new obstacle – one I used to love doing actually – riding a bike.  Before the accident I remembered loving to cycle.  I remembered the feeling of the wind giving me foreplay all over my body with its soft breeze.  I remembered feeling like a madwoman cycling and eating down bridge after bridge like some sort of luxury freedom like a huge accomplishment.

But now I’m scared.  Once again mental preparation becomes my only way through.  Like everything else, I’ve come very far, and baby steps are how I work back to the old or with the new.

 -Pennington

Deter



tarot,

I’m starved in a void.
Enjoying the finer things of what I destroy.
Looking for happiness in all the wrong places.
Juggling the present with fake laughs and different faces.
I question the anxiety of my future.
And fantasize to death about a neutered suitor.

Is it silly of me to ask another to make me cum?
To play my Latin blood passion into the beat of drums.
But spit in my hand an excuse of a fallen mark.
An overzealous spark became too dark to disembark.
Desperate I thought to go out and have sex with the world.
Blame it on my lover for not gleaming me a pearl.

Wasting time and not respecting my talents.
It’ll leave me washed like nursing homes and the elderly in famine.
All I hear are the cries of forgotten melodies.
And judges that won’t let up on this life’s felonies.
Running from memories where I became the absentee.
Too unhappy to unleash the phoenix rhapsody within me.

-Pennington©

Shameless


Ms. Marvel 1

I haven’t been pissed off all day.  The day has been good to me and I honestly can’t complain although I tried on 6 pairs of Lululemon Athletica pants to find the perfect fit and eventually gave up though that was my Personal Best in a fitting room in my lifetime.  Oh and I failed with 2 1/2lbs dumbbells with a Master Trainer working on my rotator cuff injury.  But, the point is, I like to be angry.  So now I’ve been looking for something to upset me and naturally I found it!

Here’s the question:  Why would Pauline Nordin (creator and founder of FightDiet.com) openly and publicly bash Dana Linn Bailey (an IFBB Pro) on her Facebook Page?

I don’t understand it.  In general, I will never understand why women rather put one another down as oppose to lend a helping hand or “bigging them up” in the process of dedication and discipline in a world where we bleed monthly cycles, choose to give life and where religion crucifies us.  We need unity in order to reach the top globally.

Growing up I used to believe it was the men who kept women down (aside from powerful political positions, etc and such).  But the older I became, the more I started to observe how horrible women are to other women without rhyme or reason.  They just lash out for their own purpose, own agendas and quite possibly for no other reason than perhaps they didn’t bond with their biological mother or someone spilled coffee on their favorite blouse.  Who really knows?

So, no, I don’t agree with women hating on other women ESPECIALLY when it concerns bodysculpting and/or bodybuilding and all that applies concerning this subject.  It’s difficult for any woman to build muscle or to get super lean for thousands of reasons say hormones to holding a higher percentage of bodyfat than men.

And for a woman who’s supposed to be for women everywhere, who considers herself a business/professional woman and a public figure with lots of fans on her Facebook Page who constantly pushes her FighterDiet concept to everyone (to become lean and muscular) to state (while displaying a photo of DLB) that she finds another Fitness Model a Nay as oppose to a Yay and isn’t sexy or healthy is downright disgusting.  It says a lot about her character.  Mostly her flaws within them.

Why preach about being lean and muscular but get on another woman’s case for being exactly that?  It’s basically calling the kettle black.

For me, it’s important to have support, to never put people down even when they’re starting from a low place (or in this case super high place).  Naturally I would presume that the Fitness Industry should be here as a community of like-minded supportive individuals for crying out loud.  Granted we may not all see eye to eye or share the same physique ideals or have the same training/diet philosophies.  But this is why it’s important to be an individual, to be different, to be unique, to be humble, to have integrity.  But also to be respectful of others.

The fact remains that the Fitness Industry and the Fitness Enthusiasts and Pros should be the first to lend a healthy and high demand of concern and care for the very same people who put in their hard work and effort regardless of how one is perceived physically because their beliefs are “it’s not feminine or sexy-looking.”  And what does it matter to you/her if you aren’t the person you’re speaking of?  What’s feminine?  What constitutes as masculine?  Is it a label?  Or a matter of perception?  Are they illusions? Or a matter of stereotypes?

This woman Pauline isn’t immune to body issues like the millions of women on the universe.  There have been statuses and even blog related posts about how people get on her case for how she looks like:  Strong, muscly and very lean.  So to pick, give a public statement/opinion on another Pro’s body is outrageous and it comes off like a form of betrayal.  Mostly for every other woman who does take the art and sport of building muscle and getting lean seriously (which sadly, includes herself).

It’s 2012 and we’re going into 2013 and there are lots of women who still refuse to get a handle on things.  By things, I mean what’s wrong and what’s right. When it comes to assisting and encouraging other women with everything involving Fitness (and out of it) and their daily lives.  It’s a moral and dignity game.

Can women allow other women to live muscular and strong?  Can other women find it within themselves to learn how to be encouraging rather than put another woman down for being who she wants to be?  (Aside from sluts.  Fuck sluts! ;-))  When you judge someone based completely on looks (or money or what car they drive or what books they read), it says a lot about one’s character FLAWS.. especially when one is doing it in public for others (especially their fans) to see.

It’s utterly shameless.

-Pennington

Qualm


I showered one night and lathered up in the unchanged way I always do, half grudgingly and the other with methodical certainty from bulky arms, to bursting bosoms, to pooch belly, to smooth waist, to entity vagina, to voluptuous thighs until I came across my calve, a steel rock of will and sheer determination.

This became the day I questioned every exhausting set of every draining rep of cruel years spent on sculpting, limping and wincing through the Charlie Horses that arrived to visit me in the tragedy of over stimulating nights to walk every line to put every ounce of life in training to win every fight.

So why did I pull away abruptly?  Why did I fall back on my training approach? How could I fear exactly what I’ve desired the most?  Diamonds that would climb the circumference of a quad and cut as appealing and wicked as ice. Polished for the world to know how I strong I am by how much pain and anguish bore within this delightful body of mine.

I’m reminded of how I want to grow into where my mind and my heart and my spirit of power will take me.  I want to cast out all the words, shocked faces and expressions to ill me of what I accomplish and of who I am.  I look to you, a statue of greatness, a shrine of eternal internal faith and a sudden shift in the atmosphere of the subconscious.

-Pennington©

The Universe, Sexual Thoughts, Rower and Motivation



Motivation comes in various forms. 

I’m going to share one of mine with you’s that happens during my free-for-all ovulation mode, which captures my salacious thoughts and uncanny desires. 

Before I go on I want to mention, you must at least be eighteen years of age or at the very least be of a responsible mind for the explicit material (if you consider them to be) you’re about to read.  Many who follow and read my blog already know I write exactly what’s on my mind or what life experience has brought to my attention and this is based on my biased perception of the world.  Without further ado, either click away or enjoy please. 

It was a semi-cloudy day off in the busy streets with the New York City breeze sliding its carefree attitude into my straight hair. I strolled to the gym visualizing exactly which two Cardio machines I’m going to split my time on although deep down inside I was low on Cardio inspiration.  Fast forward my barcode gets scanned and I thought to look pass the male receptionist where I saw the hunk of a Personal Trainer Rock who I’ve always had a mammoth crush on. 

Quickly he jumped out his seat both gentlemanly and nervous walking up to me tripping over his tongue with a heavy Spanish accent, “Hi, how are you doing?”  And in between his glowing pecan-rican complexion and sensational authentic smile the universe turned on the engine in the middle of my sex chakra.  

I thought almost out loud and caught myself with the words, he needs to stop teasing me with his flirtatiousness as I’m going to drop my clothes and have sex with him in front of all the gym members so they can take a lesson or two in sex fitness.

All of a sudden the motivation I was lacking was found.  The sexual charge became the intense fuel I needed for the Rower and Stationary Bike.  But mind you, I never made it to the Bike.  I happily stood on the Rower machine for over forty minutes with heart-pounding cardio sex electrifying my head.  

I closed my eyes and rolled them back slowly and listened to the sensuality of SadeShow me how deep love can be.  The instruments within the song seeped into my aspiring soul and I clenched onto the plastic bar pulling towards the bottom of my bulging breasts as I deeply fantasized on exerting force to match his muscular hard pecs. 

We’d embrace like titanic lovers and swallow the glands of one another.  Our skin would vomit sweat and we’d slip and slide in multiple active positions.  The grinding would complete mine into synergy.  During this time I called out to the universe and all its frequencies for Personal Trainer Rock to sense the lovemaking creation I was embarking. 

I tensed my entire body in a collective kegel and chanted:  I want him to feel me.  I want him to feel me. I want him to feel me buck from incomprehensible pleasure.  I want him to feel me right on his cock, exploding, shivering, and full of moisture, rhythm and reason. I want him to fuck out all the cum I have in this body of mine, in which he would ask me if this was indeed the kind of training I needed.    

Time was up said all the energy I gave to the Rower. The back of my neck was slapped with an ounce of rower sex sweat and my calluses formed into blood moon pearls of irritation, perspiring like bubbling fire and like cold sores no matter what season of the year.  I shook off my lustful anger with the inhalations and exhalations of cardio sex I entertained and when I turned around, guess who has been watching me sitting out and chilling on the massage table smiling? 

Him.

The universe is good and motivation comes in different forms.  Get some! 😉

-Pennington

Mental Hurdle



Once again the mind of a brute struck me!

The exasperating feeling of my body becoming lighter.  The likelihood of my footsteps landing softer on pavement. The ailing reflection of an aura becoming comforted by much refinement in femininity.

I don’t question the bully who mocks my pacing of an indecisive vista of a prize to be earned.  I plunge uncertain in the continuous reel of a rampant stomach bloated like a tub full of fat-bellied quadruplets with my menstrual cycle stringing my hormones in high streaks similar to the musical score of The Shining.

I qualm in a horrid practice of running around every inch of the apartment as if my ass caught fire and all the imaginative ants dropped onto the floor burnt over self-indulgent panic attacks and suddenly I’m at square one bemused due to the fear and speculation of losing weight.

FUCK!

Why am I dieting better?

All day and night I’ve dressed in layers of overbearing shapeless clothing in attempts to hide any inch that might have been vanished from sight.  I’m utterly exhausted in this heat and humidity of both my bloody rotation and the gloom of New York City weather copying the cat of Seattle.

I dislike the idea, the thought and the response of being remotely skinny.

Shrinking down into the thought of centimeters torments my fragile ego.  I feel like at any moment I’ll drown and disappear resembling the Wicked Witch of the West in the Wizard of Oz except water wouldn’t be the offender in this self-made barrier.

Is physical existence vastly different from my mass taking up space on Earth?
(I’m unfamiliar about Science.)

Stupidly and viciously I jumble the idea of ‘size and weight’ as if they equal to muscle defeat when they don’t.  But in this fictitious brain of mine I cannot get over this cemented design as of yet.  Sooner or later I must breakthrough one of my mental hurdles.

Like my Partner in Crime has stated, ‘You shouldn’t be resistant to the idea of losing weight as long as it’s the right kind.’  But many concepts are easier declared than done.

-Pennington

Disposition


I never had an MRI before.

It was weird, annoying and unlike what anything the guy told me “It’s like a jackhammer. Expect lots of noise.” Personally I believe within this white tunnel is where Dub Step music saw its creation.

I had fun in there for the first 10 minutes and than I started to be in tune with my body and before I knew it my muscles were involuntary (or voluntary) twitching on its own due to the full blast of radiowaves. See, I was given specific rules to not move at all in this tunnel otherwise the process has to start from the beginning all over again. So I stood as stiff as a hard cock and found this to be difficult because I’m generally very energetic and this is also why if I paint my nails I do it one hand at a time, never two. But what does that matter?

I made it through by listening to the Dub Step noise the tunnel made and went back into being in tune with my body where I felt so hot I forgot I was in an air-conditioned room with shorts on and for a second I thought I was experiencing the opening stages of menopause. The strange thing was I could feel each time those waves moved from one part of my body to the other although of course it’s supposed to be concentrated on my shoulder. Still, for some reason I felt everything that was going on. I felt the cramps it gave me during the last 10 minute of the 30 minute session and I no longer focused on my lower back hurting at all.

Allow me to make a note to myself and other women; it’s completely horrible how hospitals don’t care about a woman being covered up properly. Being entirely naked under a gown and large shorts may be enough for a man who sports a chest. Women should receive some kind of soft bra to go with that gown to have some kind of fabric on the nipple and keep it from poking out. I shouldn’t have to be covering my large breasts while an old dirty man who has no respect come up with creative ideas for me to let my arms off from them by offering a box so I can put my locker key into it. There are people in the world who aren’t considerate and don’t have the world of respect if they’re looking at people as objects. I felt extremely uncomfortable.

What angered me the most (besides living on planet earth and stupid people and weak women) besides not having a bra to go with my gown is I had to wait 5 fucking days to get the results for my shoulder. I hate suspense, and never watch the genre even in film.

I sat peering out the gigantic windows from the eleventh floor and right into the parking lot where I smiled as I stared at a tiny group playing Frisbee. They appeared happy. I was happy too. But part of me wasn’t. On one end I was happy because now I’m finally going to learn what the fuck is wrong with my shoulder and unhappy on the other because it took longer than some guy trying to wrap his head around the entire proposal of foreplay. I’m guessing, this is the timing it was meant to happen in. I say this because I believe in everything happening for a reason until there’s not a good reason, probably? I went through almost every episode upon seasons and all types of finales to come back to a full circle.

I didn’t need the orthopedic to waltz in the room carefree and well composed to inform me of something I knew for years now, which is, my shoulder adapting a screenplay of agonizing hell. I’ve no idea how I got it. I know I’ve worked through numerous sorts of pain. My only guess is it happened over time, so it’s impossible to pinpoint anything at this moment. I have good days. I have bad days. This involves training or no training at all with this shoulder.

This took me a while to figure out on my own. How much I could push and knowing when I have to be on reserve mode and recover fully in order to go hard again. It took time to slowly get my teres minor up to a place of little to no pain or what I call flare outs, deep inflammation. There are days it hurts in the anterior part of my shoulder. There are days when it only hurts posterior (where the rear delts are and how it trickles down to the teres minor, teres major and subscapularis) or deep with in the ball and socket. Some days it hurts everywhere and I wake up to a stiff shoulder with the rain bearing down on the decision to workout. It sucks monkey balls! But I’m dealing.

Before the doctor came into the room, the caretaker decided, (probably inappropriately timing?) to hand me over the papers stating my MRI results. I read the first few lines and had a dull ache in my heart. I swore I cried somehow internally. After I read all the various things (moderate tendinosis of the superior rotator cuff, Superior labral tear and trace glenohumeral joint effusion, fluid extending into the subscapularis recess; this may represent a paralabral cyst) occurring with this shoulder of mine I peered out once again to discover happiness in someone else’s and continued to watch the small group play Frisbee with laughs and joys, dances and no worries in the present.

I want to feel like that again about my body. I’m tired of being cautious and having to slow down. I’ve had enough of this patience thing life is clearly expressing to me. I want to assault like the way I know how, with my wild passion and chockfull of excitement. I want to throwdown when it comes to training and never look back.

So, what is a labral tear?

-Pennington

P.S.

Will continue this further in another entry.  Also this blue velvet is speaking to me right now.  So enjoy it somehow. 😉

“Empty Stomach Reality” Two!


Nearly everyone who fasts, discovers the same thing, that when they fast they actually have no hunger and more energy than they normally have. It is indeed liberating to find out that if we let go and trust that we will be taken care of.”

Here’s the other half to where it started:  Empty Stomach Reality.  There are lots of benefits with Fasting when it comes to the body/mind/spirit.  But I’m not going to get into how or why you can lose bodyfat or how it reduces blood pressure, repairs your cells and increases growth hormones.  For Christ Sake I’m just a simpleton!  Over the course of my experience with Fasting I’ll present to you the benefits of what Fasting has done for Me in no particular order.  But before I get to the positive part.  Here are a few negatives with explanations of what I learned along the way.

The Not-So Benefits that could be Overridden.

1.  Fasting often doesn’t necessarily mean it’s better!

Really once a week every week, if one feels they need that much, can be overdoing it.  I realized this too late in between mid-month of November to December.  I was beyond committed to Fasting like it was a golden key to unlocking the mysteries of religion or coming to terms with body science.  But along the journey my body became sick and any kind of food I put into my mouth made me profoundly nauseous.  No matter how small the portion was or healthy.

The thought of eating made me want to spew my empty reality and if I could have thrown up my intestines I would have while stabbing it repeatedly with a fork for being such a fucking asshole!  (But, it doesn’t make any sense that I be mad at my body for something I clearly started for my own selfish reasons.)  Sometimes I can take what I’m experimenting on into a nasty form of OCD and get lost in it because it’s my chemical romance.

2.  Timing like most things can make the difference between experiencing a good fast or a terrible one.

I’m a night owl.  So it made perfect sense for me to start my Fast at the latest 11pm to the following night at 11pm.  On rare occasions, I would start a fast as early as 3pm.  But I found the earlier I had to deal with the Fast the earlier Life’s distractions and emotions sat on my boulder shoulders pecking me like Woody Wood to eat something.  Hunger pangs during the day just never sat well with me.  Why should it when I can sleep through half the Fast instead of being up for all of it? 😉  Still I expect this, with working, training and dealing with stupid people however.  The question is:  When is the best time for you to deal with (literally) less on your plate while being affected by other disagreeable circumstances?

That’s a personal choice.

3.  Be extra prepared for a Fast.

There are going to be without a doubt Fasts that will go according to your plan.  You set up the date.  You’ve been visualizing it the entire week and have also been setting up how you’re going to keep busy and arrive extra early for work because you won’t be stopping by the Coffee Shop.  Then there are those horrible Fasts where maybe you didn’t get enough sleep or you went too hard working out a day and a half ago and things are still lingering.  To the point where the Fast itself is completely telling you to “go fuck yourself!”   You stand there blindly like the fuck?  I thought I fucking mastered the not eating part.

So there were times when Herbal Tea assisted my hunger pangs.  Other times just the sight of Water fucked with my eyes and I became nauseous.  And this is when I learned that one 5-10 calorie stick of gum came to my rescue.  Weird, I thought?  But whatever works to get you from Point A to Point B is what I always say.

4.  Defending Fasting From Others

I thought I was being smart the first few times I fasted by writing down the word Fasting on my hands, wrists and arms because there were instances when I naturally wanted to go to my kitchen or purchase food without thinking while window-shopping.  But then drama happened, “Is that a tattoo?  Oh!  You’re Fasting?  That’s not good!  That’s dangerous.  You could die.  You’re going to slow down your metabolism and screw up your hormones.  Aren’t you defeating the purpose of lifting weights if you need to eat to maintain your muscle?”  The shit never stops!

So I stopped writing the word on myself and kept Fasting as discreet as my DM’s on Twitter while defending what I was doing to an extent.  Most people are dumb and love to bask in ignorance.  Just let them.  Most average people don’t even know what it takes to be determined, gun-ho to set a goal or workout.  Let alone what it’s like to abstain from food.  Rather than focus on the benefits they rather focus on other people’s opinions because they’re too lazy to research themselves.  I bet you if everyone admitted to Fasting and it wasn’t looked at as something only Muslims do, they be fucking doing it with no negativity in the forefront.

5.  Bad breath & Canker Sores

Counter it by brushing your teeth, gums and tongue often.. especially when servicing people face to face.

6.  Diarrhea. 

Everyone will obviously act differently.  And I have quite a few stories on this alone.  Seemed like every time I finally ate after an entire day of Fasting.  I had 15-20 minutes (because stuff like this you must time) where I had to run to the bathroom.  Or head into Starbucks after telling my friend to pull over while we were about to get on the highway and shit violently while praying no one comes into bathroom when I’m done.  Well, because it reminded me of this:

7.  Joint pain & Muscle Tightness

Just stretch, get extra rest and drink yourself into a water coma.

8.  Emotional Overload/Overreacting

I think it’s completely normal to be super sensitive when the body is going through it’s bouts of Fasting.  Expect certain things to bother you that has never bothered you before.  But at the same time understand it will go away and remind yourself that every sense/emotion is heightened because of the Fasting Process.  Write down your reflections.

The Intriguing, Yet Sloppily Written Benefits

1. I’m able to tell the difference between a mind/emotional hunger versus a true/body one.

This may be the most important thing anyone can take away from Fasting.  Are you aware when you’re hungry?  If so, is it when you’re bored, emotionally distraught at a lost for words or when you’re Body is actually HUNGRY?  Can you tell the difference between being thirsty or when your hunger pangs are all in your mind?  Are you willing to find out?

Body signals are significantly worth getting to know.

2.  I have a deeper sense of clarity.  I have less mind clutter.  I’m able to make decisions better. 

Self-explanatory, really.

3.  I have a sense for/of cleanliness. 

Maybe this is due to a subconscious and conscious detoxification process.  This includes cleaning my space and actually other people’s space as well, whether this includes the apartment (donating clothes, throwing away clutter) or the place in which I work (organizing dumbbells, filing papers).  Fuck.  I kid you not!  I went into a place to purchase a salad and I while I was waiting patiently I went to pick up all the receipts off from the floor.  I just wanted it clean.

4. I find myself yearning for Zen in every way possible.

This also means I want to live more in a state of being present and achieving a higher level of consciousness.  Not to be confused with necessarily going along with the flow.  I like some kind of structure whether it’s due to moral or restraint purposes.  But here’s an example that’s completely honest:  I can feel how the weather is like early in the morning when I’m blessed with another day for life, breath and opening my eyes.  Strange, but true.  I can feel the earth of the gray if it’s raining out or my own aura radiating like a sweet flower petal rising to touch the sun.

5.  I have enormous amounts of peaked energy throughout the day and night that sometimes I find it difficult to sleep. 

And here I thought the only time I can obtain tremendous amounts of furious energy was when I ate every 2-3 hours.   Or after a bout of hypersexual-ness?  I had a few episodes where I broke night because of such mighty energy levels.

6.  I find annoyances in the way people consume things whether for greedy reasons or cultural conditioning ones. 

I hate the thought of Malls and food courts with welcoming doors for people who are readily available to throw their souls away without a second thought into what or how their cloths and toys were made.

7.  My body feels lighter.  I feel much more agile like Spiderman.  Entirely from the inside out.

8.  Fasting resets my blood sugar levels and any grogginess I might have been feeling on a particular day that I couldn’t completely shake off on my own.

9.  Fasting shrank my stomach!

There are many fucking times where I frankly don’t care to admit when I just want to eat everything because I just like stuffing shit in my goddamn mouth.  Really I have no good reason?  However when those precious times would come around when I wanted to do nothing but overeat.  I couldn’t.  Mostly because my stomach shrank in more than one way.  So I wasn’t allowed to be a Fat ass when I wanted.  This scared the fuck out of me and also made me pretty sad.  Yeah yeah, I know I’m a fatass! 😀

10.  Experienced no constipation.

11.  Breathing becomes different. 

I noticed this while performing Yoga.  I’m able to inhale much more deeply without beginner’s strain or whatever.  So much so that it astounded me as I felt my spine and muscles lengthen to a fucking degree I wish I could describe. 😦

12.  Allowed me to forget calorie-counting to a certain point while making it easier to eat loadfuls of veggies at a time.  I now love veggie slop.  Who knew?

13.  I learned how to better listen to my body for everything including the point where a full 1 week recovery was all I needed to be able to kick up the workouts again.

At this point in time I stood away from all types of exercises, including stretching.  I never once exerted myself.  Instead I allowed all the pain from my joints and muscles to come out and heal up.  When I was done with the rest I had obviously weigh myself before and after.  I wound up losing 5lbs.

14.   Become much more thankful and grateful for meals while eliminating the need to overindulge or fall prey into strong cravings.

Actually I rarely had any cravings while Fasting.  Sometimes I felt like eating became a new experience as I started to focus on the textures of different foods and liquids.

15.  Stronger self-discipline and self-control.  I couldn’t believe I could watch people gorge on food and not once be affected by wanting some.  When it’s ON.  It’s ON!

16.  Last but not least:  The world of magical senses.  You know what they say, if you take a sense away it will amplify the other senses. 

Hello to the best sense of smell I’ve had in all of my existence.  I really don’t think it’s coincidence on why my sense of smell has increased as my taste and action for eating has decrease.   And why change any of this when I like it?

And some things I didn’t do during the times when I Fasted before, while or after:

I barely did any type of workout during a Fast.  Of course I tried and succeeded.  But at a price of being extremely lethargic.  I would stretch and maybe add a Yoga session in at best.  I also didn’t do such hardcore gruesome workouts on the night before a Fast because recovery seemed to be a bitch after.  I never overate after coming off a Fast.  Most times I couldn’t.  But I severely under-ate after.  I made sure to eat well before I was about to fast and took in more fats.  I’m sure there’s more I can put down, but I once again have said enough.

Would anyone like to share their Fasting experiences?  We’re all eyes here.

-Pennington

Even The Best Can Break Down!



This is personal.  So skip this if you always expect moi to maintain her strong-ness working at an optimum level of 110%.  

Firstly, I dedicate this Post to @WriteWendy.  Also her Org and Tumblr .  Entirely because she’s honest and raw with her own Life and I’m taking a page out her book and releasing a moment to do the same simply because she greatly inspires me.  Thanks Wendy with all my muscle fibers, heart and soul.

Yesterday I decided to do the impossible and visit my dying mother in the hospital.  Heading over there all I could feel was a bundle of heightened anxiety in the pit of my stomach that felt just like when I threaten juniors to fight in the cafeteria.  I’ve always been about entertainment in one way or another.  But seeing my mother isn’t delighting in the least.  It’s fucking devastating!  So much so that when I look into her face all I want to do is break down and cry.  There are many many reminders.

I haven’t seen her in a year.  It’s partly punishment.  It’s partly about keeping my entire sanity intact.  I heard my mother gasp in surprise as the nurse told her your daughter is here as she was changing in her personal bathroom.  I don’t know why (except that maybe the nurse was taken aback by my mother’s expression), but I felt compelled to tell the nurse I haven’t seen my mother in a long time.  Naturally she asked, “Do you live far?”  No, it’s just we really don’t get along.

For a moment she changed my loathsome perception of nurses with what she had to say:  We only have one mother.  Sometimes when people act harsh and angry, especially when they’re sick.  It’s because they believe nobody loves them.  They want somebody to take care of them and be there for them.  Don’t you notice when you give them love they are much calmer? Whatever she did to you as a kid, leave it there.  Come by and visit often.

When I finally saw my mom, I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t recognize her face.  I tried my hardest to cover the grimace but she caught it through my stricken eyes, I know I gained a lot of weight, right?  My reply:  A little.  I analyzed her face and it seems like someone stuffed two vineyard tomatoes under her cheeks how they flourish in furious mush.  I was heartbroken. 😦

Then I roamed my eyes to her hair and many of her strands were gray.  And I’m not sure what it was about youth or age or the past to present or what contradictions within me lied with wanting to run out and buy her a black tint so she can cover them?  I’m not used to seeing my mother succumb to weakness or being anything less than what she is now.  She’s a pretty good trooper with a million disguises putting politicians to shame.  And for her not to hide in plain sight just made me feel awful as I wanted to do it for her.  Jeweled travesties.  Make sense?

Mother and I chatted for what seem like a brief moment where when she decided to lay down on her bed she told me:  I missed you so much.  I haven’t seen you in a long time.  During this little time I had to reflect between what she said and what I felt with her asking me where my brother (her favorite) is and why has she never come out with the courage to tell me just how hard her ill existence is?  She grabbed out for my hand, held it and fell right to sleep.  I stuck around for a little while, wrote a note as to not wake her and thanked the nurse for being so welcoming.

But as soon as I left her room, I managed to get lost in the hospital.  I swear it was a metaphor for how I was feeling at that moment.  Before I stepped foot outside I saw a neon flashing sign: FOOD! I looked over the menu, reaching into my pockets to buy anything to shove my fucked up emotions down.  I didn’t.  I had a semi-long walk to the train station and before I made it.  I walked into 3 different food stores (including a pizza shop) just to browse food while each and everyone of them were offering their services.  Fucking gluttons! 😉

Holding back tears, thinking to myself:  How does all the parties, all the drugs, all the fun my entire family has ever had in life come down to letting go of life and losing absolutely everything in return?  How?  But I know the answers.  I know why I’m cynical.  But in the end it’s not the end.  Yet the somewhat happy ending concluded with sucking up the emotional guts to visit my mother and finally make it home successfully with healthy and whole foods from the market.

*smiles*

-Pennington