Thai Terminal


Written previously, recently revised.

We welcomed each other first with high spirited voices talking into our cell phones and waving from across the street like lost little kindergarten classmates.  Then we greeted like sisters with tight long bear-hugs in the same way we always have because there are a few things in life that never change.  I could hear her wailing happiness beating from her gut than her chest and out into the public and onto my ear.  I smile in her hair with immediate joy but reserved the sound of my joyfulness.

Xyza is an undercover mentor, a maternal-like figure, full of flashes of hippie love, extraordinary kindness and massive angelic light that illuminates from her aura.  I’m also an undercover mentor, half in age, full of loyal compassion, extraordinary hospitality and thoughtfulness that leave the innocent light on in the darkness of which I grow.

In the center of this embrace I reflect over our countless meet-ups and how it never fails, my constant awkwardness in the hub of sharing love and how despite iself, I’m genuinely able to digest her white magic, even if it leaves me depleted afterward.  Xyza looks tenderly beautiful with her strawberry blonde shoulder-length bob.  I compliment her on the new length when she declared, “I had a vision of myself twenty years from now, me with long gray hair and a flower in it off to the side.”

I love the visions she shares with me.

We settle in a Thai restaurant not far from her parked car.  Upon sitting, the server asks, “Are you tourists?”  “No”, we replied.  Xyza turns my way inching up her nose until it crinkles with a question, “How come everyone thinks I’m a tourist?  I was born in New York, but live just outside the city.  I guess.. because I travel a great deal.”  I nod in agreement and chimed, “Your aura never has that grounded feel from being in one place too long.”

But, with me it’s totally different; I’m a New Yorker who’s considerably considerate whereas I allow people to hit me with their bags as I stand overt with an introverted atmosphere on the train or bus.  Unlike Xyza, my roots are established in New York and it’s on display when I talk about my suspicions concerning the worldview.  I may come across as myopic, but I consider myself to be purely grounded.

Thirty minutes of conversation and I’ve been following Xyza’s lead because she’s paying so I never lay a finger on the menu.  The server comes over to nudge us politely – then Thai Chive Pancakes, Vegetable Spring Rolls and a glorious Mango Salad along with unsweetened ice tea lands sweetly before our eyes.  I continued following Xyza’s lead and didn’t touch a single carrot slinky.  I sat glued in passivity to the tales of my friend.


I listen to her speak about her ex-husband and how she’s pretty sure a demon owns him.  I listen when she said she knows of two men who have transcended beyond the physical and how they both married wonderful women, but not perfect women.  (It made me wonder, what constitutes a perfect woman according to a sixty-year old woman.)  I listen on in when she said she doesn’t want to play the romantic game from a male’s physical perspective, nor does she have any desire to play the woman’s perspective which is to trap a man in a relationship.  Of course, I agree.  I believe life is too short to live conventionally.

When Xyza decides to come up for air, I volunteer my own discourse.

I speak about isolation from the world and if canceling my gym membership is the wrong thing to do because at least this is a place where I can maintain some social skills.  I speak about having elevated to a place where physical sex is no longer an obligation of mine, nor is it ever a want.   I speak about the tiny things that make me happy like being by the water, the vision of living in a beach house single with two pets:  A husky dog and a petite cat.  I speak about not understanding the point of being in a relationship with men when being the opposite gender I’ve yet to connect and remain on the same wavelength.  I always feel superior.


We understood each other the way women and friends frequently do and we continued to eat, sip, laugh and talk the summery night away.


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?



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 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.



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.


Admirers Come In Vaginas Too

There’s a gift I have (I mean, what else could it be?) where people are magnetically drawn to me whether it’s a child (not sure how since I dislike children?), men (no shit!) and women (for some reason).  I know men like pretty things and Americans enjoy big jugs and they have a dick and they think every vagina they come across in the city is an outlet to plug in.  But when it comes to women and what they like about me I’m as a clueless as a person who sits down and realizes they don’t practice a word of the philosophy they speak.

I wanted to ask this one gal who clearly was a dyke and clearly had a huge crush on me (said her action of stalking me outside of my Automotive Body and Repair classes) until she locked the bathroom door behind us and tried to kiss me dead on.  Still til this day many of my friends theorize:  You act too masculine Pennington and that’s why women are attracted to you.  But this can’t be correct because men would be attracted to feminine men as well, if I went by this?  No?  I don’t know?

Anyhow, every now and again since I’ve been training in the gym since 2003 there are two types of women who check me out:  Those who are jealous and those who actually admire me.  I never paid attention to the first types of women because there aren’t many women who can compete with who I am or even how much I lift or volume.  And as far as my admirers are concern I never fully paid them any attention, at first.

Until one night my brother pointed out this very pretty caramel-complexion twenty-something lady who’s eyes would follow me everywhere I lifted.  Since I went on a regular basis during the time I had extra time to observe.  One night leaving out the doorway my brother said, “good night” to her but she didn’t respond.  Instead she turned to me and said, “Good night.  Have a nice holiday” in a very flirtatious kind of way as if she’s in love, completely googly-eyed.  I looked at her type of admiration to be truly thoughtful and always took the time to be nice to her.

Then there was this other admirer in a form of a Zumba instructor.  I took a few of her classes. Mostly to work my grind and vagina in the air when I needed to boost up my sex-esteem (due to menstruation).  It works!  Whatever.  What I thought was strange however is every week after she was done teaching her class she would hang out with me until I CLOSED down the gym.  At first she would talk to me about some guy who she was head over heels over (I believe because he’s a millionaire) and how he just treated her like a booty call.

The she started to talk about her loneliness (which I tend to think horniness)and the greenlight smacked my head when it was time for me to change out my uniform.  She would follow me into the locker room (every single time) and guess who all of a sudden decided they need to change as well?  She’d chatted up a fucking dictionary while never sucking in breath saying something about her tits that went in one ear and out the other and tried to make conversation about my tits.

And one flip of her sports bra when I had my back turned and BAM!  Her breasts were out and I scratched my head with fake intention not sure who’s more nonchalant her tits or her?  Now some might consider this type of attention and boldness lucky (probably straight men? perhaps a lesbian?) as she patted her sweaty shining breasts with a towel.  But I assure you I was utterly dreadful inside.  Why me?  Why does this always happen to me?  I got the fuck out the building quick as lightning and I stop taking her Zumba classes.

Now why am I bringing this up?  Glad you asked!  Last night after I finished my workout at the gym right as I was about to head out exhaustively my coworker introduced me to this gal.  First thing I noticed was this gal mentioned she saw me working out (which I wondered:  how as I only workout where the men are in the basement lifting rawrs?  so she must have watched and scoped during) and her eyes grew big in buggy excitement.

I automatically felt on my vibe that this chica is giving me a certain kind of vibe.  (Although yeah I could be undergoing a case of normal paranoia?)  But as my coworker kept talking about how she has to lose weight and drain a fatty tissue from her bulging chin because she’s now 300lbs, this gal (who I’ll nickname Hazel-Eye) would not leave.  I tested the situation (by staying a bit longer), snacking on a Perfect Zone bar, finishing it along with hearing a lecture about going back to school and how do I always make sure to workout?  And this gal would not leave.

Actually she didn’t leave until I told my coworker I have to bounce to make it to the market on time.  She walks out with me and starts talking about, “Can we workout together?”  And of course I’m not going to say no to anyone who wants to workout PERIOD!  But I’m thinking this is how I bag dudes numbers by telling them, “Hey we should workout sometime.”  Is she doing the same?  Unfortunately I don’t have the answers.  Still we walked to the train station, exchanged numbers and we chatted until out trains came.

Signing off skeptical as fuck.


The Fright Fact List

Sometimes I play the tough woman in real life, even on television (wait – what?), on my blogs to family and associates alike who I truly believe share the same shady characteristics because they’re human and overly emotional.  However I especially dish out tough love (even when it’s ever so exhausting to keep up an act or two) when I have to shut shit (or men) down.  But I’m truly a sweet loving one-of-a-kind sometimes timid gal who blushes when you and I least expect.

So I decided to share a list of things that genuinely scare me (in one way or another) to display the fact that even though I can be a robot at times, underneath the heavy-duty guards I’m human too – unfortunately.  To keep the list short I figured I skip the explanations and examples.  These aren’t in any particular order.   By the way, if I peak(ed) your curiosity feel free to point it out or ask me in the box below.  In general, I don’t bite.  But I LIFT SHIT! 😉

1. Thunder.
2. Waterbugs.
3. Of the dark.
4. Big penises.
5. New exercises.
6. Frying food.
7. Experimenting with new vegetables.
8. Running out of inspiration.
9. Not having new addictions.
10. Constructing a plan.
11. Getting sick.
12. Women.
13. Other people’s perceptions/expectations of me.
14. Dealing with money.
15. Losing weight.
16. Losing muscle.
17. Losing a limb.
18. Never using my talents.
19. Never having a best friend.
20. Dying in a car crash.

What scares you?


Truth Foreplay

I get tired of having the same conversation and knowing I’m not going to get anywhere by showing, demonstrating, pinpointing, stating, referring, linking and whatever have you to this word called:  Foreplay.  It’s pretty basic stuff.  All one has to do is keep keen and consider all notions and stylize them into brilliant state of the art masterpieces.  Sounds difficult already, doesn’t it?

The only thing making it difficult are the men who choose to live and listen to what other men have to say about foreplay.  HELL, most women are still trying to figure out what foreplay is because they never received it in the first place.  *Questions:  Where’s my imaginary gun?*  *shoots brains*  To give it to you straighter than a Grey Goose Label:  Foreplay isn’t something you do to get sex.  Foreplay isn’t a manual or God‘s blueprint to get vagina.  Foreplay isn’t a guarantee or a free pass to getting any creampies.  Foreplay has nothing to do with sex!  PERIOD!  I don’t care what you agreed to when you were younger.

Foreplay is something only real men partake in, to make sure they’re ahead of the enterprise at all times.  Foreplay’s about being a magician and knowing when and how to wield the magic wand so that everyone is satisfied with the game called Life.  Foreplay’s marketing.  Foreplay’s status.  Foreplay shall always be funky fresh and innovative.  Why?  Because this allows the wages to be place high due to your hard work, million gifted and honed abilities!  Those skills first being:  Time, Effort, Dedication, Discipline, Art, Seduction, Wisdom, Experience and by far.. Intuition.. all rolled into one has brought nothing but your best foot forward, your finer character and confidence forward.  That’s foreplay.

Many men lack foreplay because:  1.  They aren’t confident (and if I were a man it would be hard to be confident. ;))  2. They believe foreplay involves getting sex.  3.  The lack of dedication to studying women as a whole is lacking.

And there are no excuses except that most men would rather watch hours of television (that by the way gives you billions upon billions of wrong way and impressions to go about foreplay just so the system can benefit from humans and their emotional turmoils), play hours of video games and prefer studying the plays on the next Football game.  (Oh, this sounds a lot like men just want to play and not put in any effort?  😉 )  So rather then men take the time to study the know how’s and efficient approaches to getting what they ultimately desire:  A woman.

So many men around the world would rather be comfortable and not shed any ridicule, rejection, embarrassment or humiliate themselves in front of THEMSELVES!  Instead they rather be comfortable in their comfort, under their parents comfort abode, watch comfort porn and have comfort sex with their comfort hand. Hey, listen, don’t bitch, complain and whine to me about why you’re so lonely and will be alone for the rest of your life.  I mean, you gave all that shit up for Comfort.  What else could be wrong? 😉


Burst A Bubble: It’s All In The Acting!

Ever been with a woman, who of course, was appealing to your eyes, her skin smooth as satin, her lips smooth as nothing you ever felt, her voice intoxicating as if  the word sex took on it’s own meaning and created a voice ever so true, her hands succulent because they’re gliding on all the naughty parts of which you deliver..

You’re wondering why, “Oh My God this feels INCREDIBLE” and “I’ve never felt this way before the way my sperm shoots like rockets onto the space of the enchanted bed board” and “Oh my I would marry this lady if only she allowed me to.”  So you penetrate her like you were churning the last butter of the world for the millions starving with crystal flooding eyes.  You eat her body like a succubus eats the men of pounding flesh.

And well, none of you men realize what the fuck is happening?

And this is why you have a Real Woman like me Pennington that’s at your service to bring you the truth about shit.  To burst your fantasies, to burst your disillusioned thinking.  Besides the obvious of what’s actually happening like “Wow this is the first time I’ve ever had sex” and “Oh this is the first time I’ve slept with a really hot and amazing bodied lady” and “Finally this is the alcohol everyone was talking about that allowed this chick to slip her panties off!”

Something any man can look over, since most men look themselves over to begin with is..

We women know what men want.  Not because we’re born with a built-in system to understand how simple, or bet yet, how brainless most of them are to begin with.  But because there’s PORN everywhere.  Soft porn on a teenager’s show like Gossip Girl.  Cable porn where the gals are constantly dancing, whipping their hair like they have lice and biting their lips as if they’re hungry for real food!  Not to mention hardcore porn.  Seems like everyone is into abusing the opposite sex nowadays.

But if there’s one thing I picked up off every single porn I find on Billboards in Times Square and on advertisements in the Train Stations.. it’s that I should be taking lessons from the whores who play whores.  They are whores because they act out men’s fantasies.  And what better way then to take lessons from a man who pays and directs them to act in such a poisonous way.

The best sex you’re having with that hot female is all a fucking act!

I know this for a fact because ONE this is what they do in all porn, movies, sitcoms and the like.  And TWO whenever I tested this phenomenon for example:  Throwing my back into the most arch-raising performance it seems my partner is in a frenzy, completely believing I’m absolutely addicted to his touch.  The times when I moan extra or louder, or in a teenage squeak he pumps better then if I moaned under wraps.

Everything is about creating sex as exaggerated as fucking possible.
This will guarantee you a better sex life instantly.