- I moved back to Bangkok after a wonderful 11 months in LA. Yeep, moved from one City of Angels to another.
Hello there, Bangkok!
via instagram
- I've brought home with me with me so many life lessons from LA. This amazing city was the PERFECT place for me to kickstart my post-grad life . Would I go back and live there? Probably not, but I did enjoy my time there a LOT (more on all this later).
- So... more changes: Since moving to LA, I have gotten more into CrossFit and less into running. I still love routine but I'm starting to get used to the non-routine lifestyle. My opinions on things have changed slightly, but that's what happens in real life. You move around, you grow and collect all the experiences behind your back, and those things shape how you think.
But I still have that love-hate relationship with wall balls...
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- And there are some things that haven't changed: I'm still obsessed with politics and the legal system, my favorite TV show is still House of Cards (Orange is the New Black and Breaking Bad are a close second). I still talk a lot, enjoy froyo on a sunny day, buy and wear lots of Lilly, and drink coffee like it's water. Aaaand I still like to bake and make things in the kitchen.
Cheat days must also include a cheat cappuccino (and croissant)...
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(REMARK: I have been inspired by today's events and will be revealing a few secrets that I've been keeping to myself for a while. This will explain why I was very sick fall junior year of college. And yes, I started CrossFit to become better at rowing, but rowing wasn't the PRIMARY reason why I got into CrossFit (I still love and hate you, concept 2!). You'll see what the reason is if you continue reading. Anyway, I apologize I haven't really told any of you all this stuff I'm about to blog about, although I know some of you, especially those who knew me well in high school, already suspected. I didn't want to tell anyone in the beginning, for obvious reasons. When I felt better, I didn't really reflect on it till much much later... Later as in after the 14.5 Open WOD, when I compared myself at that moment to the me-this-time-a-year-ago and realized how far I've come. And in regards to my health, my blood sugars have been good, there are a couple times when it randomly drops (aka when I'm super stressed and/or didn't eat enough before training), but I know how I feel when it's low and know how to take care of that!)
But back to what I wanted to talk about in the first place...
This morning I went to the gym, rowed a 2K and went to the weight room to do a little metcon which consisted of dumbbell thrusters, burpees and hand-release pushups. Then, I decided to put in a little bit of accessory work, to strengthen my scapula stability. Suddenly, a guy, whom I saw on an elliptical earlier when I was rowing, came up to me and casually said (in Thai)
"you're in the weight room... lifting like a man"
Ouch. Alrighty, maybe he didn't mean it as an insult and was just bewildered to see a little Asian female do thruster after thruster after thruster with giant dumbbells. But I'm not gonna lie, it stung for like two (okay, actually maybe ten) seconds. A couple deep breaths and a sip of water later, I realized what he said actually didn't make any sense. I mean, if I looked like a man in the weight room, then he obviously looks like a woman for not lifting, right? So I smiled and continued doing my dumbbell rows.
Then when I was done, I hopped into the shower... and did some thinking (whoever claims they've never thought in a shower is probably lying, btw). Had this incident happened four or five years earlier, I would've bolted to the bathroom, sobbed and stopped lifting completely. I was oversensitive to the words "big", "fat", "bulky" and "stunted" and got overly upset when someone said any of these words to me. And mind you it's a completely different culture here in Thailand, so I got it a lot.
Seven years ago, I was starving myself, depriving myself and doing hours and hours of cardio (don't even talk about the weight room, "bulky" was the last thing I ever wanted to be). I was an athlete, so I naturally had a bigger build than all the skinny girls. In ninth grade, I would ask my parents and maid if I looked "fat". If there was a "yes" (which happened a handful of times), I would portion my lunch into fourths and only ate 1/4th of the fourths very very slowly. And I would eat nothing but plain lettuce and celery sticks for dinner. I got better with my eating throughout 10th-12th grade, but I still disliked the way I looked.
Then it was time for college, and I was still unhappy with my appearance. I would go through phases when I ate everything in front of my face, and phases when I would starve and just secretly fast and projectile workout. My body and I had this internal conflict for six years. And it all changed when something happened fall semester, Junior year (my family, close friends, professors and sorority sisters can all attest to this).
I got sick plenty of times that semester. I was constantly fainting, in and out of the health center, ER and hospital rooms. The nurses knew me by name. Whenever I was back, no words were needed; they knew which arm I preferred them to prick when they drew blood, knew to put the IV through my left arm because I'm right-handed and knew that I preferred red Vitamin Water to orange juice after a morning blood test. I had one fever after another, my bladder constantly wanted to go to the bathroom (I even wet the bed... a few times, lol). I lost a lot of weight but was constantly hungry. I felt weak all the time. I was miserable.
Junior year of High School... that's me, in white laying on the couch.
How. is. that. fat?
Then it was time for college, and I was still unhappy with my appearance. I would go through phases when I ate everything in front of my face, and phases when I would starve and just secretly fast and projectile workout. My body and I had this internal conflict for six years. And it all changed when something happened fall semester, Junior year (my family, close friends, professors and sorority sisters can all attest to this).
I got sick plenty of times that semester. I was constantly fainting, in and out of the health center, ER and hospital rooms. The nurses knew me by name. Whenever I was back, no words were needed; they knew which arm I preferred them to prick when they drew blood, knew to put the IV through my left arm because I'm right-handed and knew that I preferred red Vitamin Water to orange juice after a morning blood test. I had one fever after another, my bladder constantly wanted to go to the bathroom (I even wet the bed... a few times, lol). I lost a lot of weight but was constantly hungry. I felt weak all the time. I was miserable.
Me and my Big, Fall Junior year
via personal Facebook account
Month after month and test after test, the doctors ruled out mono and cancer, but told me my blood sugar was ridiculously high. They suspected it to be "probably diabetes". My primary care physician scheduled an emergency appointment with the local Endocrinologist (who's a genius, btw). The Endo treated me for the dreaded Dia-B. I was to go back to her three times a semester for follow ups.
But was it diabetes? There were times when I would be sitting at my desk eating a peach and bag of chips, and my blood sugar would remain low, after already starting out low. And then a couple hours later, it would fluctuate and become high. Then it would randomly become low again after my various meetings at night (and keep in mind, there was cake and pizza and soda at those meetings). I felt better, but I was confused. I mean, shouldn't my blood sugar be higher after I snarfed down all those carbs?
I addressed this to my Endo during one of my last follow ups of the semester and she realized something wasn't right. She looked up a few articles, asked me a couple questions... then looked at me and said "you need to start eating right and consistently, or I'll have to put you on more oral medication"
"And will I have to take those meds my whole life as well?"
"Oh yes, because if you don't... this thing you have that we thought was diabetes is insulin intolerance. If it isn't treated right, there is a very high chance it'll turn into full-blown diabetes. Do you want that?"
I addressed this to my Endo during one of my last follow ups of the semester and she realized something wasn't right. She looked up a few articles, asked me a couple questions... then looked at me and said "you need to start eating right and consistently, or I'll have to put you on more oral medication"
"And will I have to take those meds my whole life as well?"
"Oh yes, because if you don't... this thing you have that we thought was diabetes is insulin intolerance. If it isn't treated right, there is a very high chance it'll turn into full-blown diabetes. Do you want that?"
Um, no. I didn't want that. So I left her office that day, with a promise that I would adjust my eating habits. I went to the grocery store that evening after class, bought a week's worth of meat and produce, and promised myself to eat it all in seven days. I changed the way I ate. No more skipping meals. Put more meat on that salad. Eat some fats. It was difficult at first and took a lot of strength. Since I no longer knew how much food was 'enough', it also took me a while to adjust and find balance. And I started using the weight room, in addition to the BodyPump classes offered at my college gym, because someone recommended it. I didn't care if it made me "bulky" anymore, I just wanted to feel better.
I continued to eat and lift throughout winter break. I stopped projectile binging and skipping meals and ate at least four times a day. And I felt better. Spring semester came along. I went to school and continued doing what I was doing. I slowly got my energy back. No more fainting. A few fatigue spells here and there, and a couple short phases of battling with a hyperactive bladder, but that was it. I assumed that I was probably my in-between stage with my body trying to readjust and me trying to find balance, so I continued living my new lifestyle. And then one of my coaches introduced me to CrossFit, but I only dabbled with it here and there, and only attended class once a week.
I continued to eat and lift throughout winter break. I stopped projectile binging and skipping meals and ate at least four times a day. And I felt better. Spring semester came along. I went to school and continued doing what I was doing. I slowly got my energy back. No more fainting. A few fatigue spells here and there, and a couple short phases of battling with a hyperactive bladder, but that was it. I assumed that I was probably my in-between stage with my body trying to readjust and me trying to find balance, so I continued living my new lifestyle. And then one of my coaches introduced me to CrossFit, but I only dabbled with it here and there, and only attended class once a week.
Junior Spring. You could still see the fatigue in my face, but my goofy self was back!
via personal photo
And then senior year came along. I joined a CrossFit box, but still only went 2-3 times a week (hey, well, to be fair, I was marathon training...). I felt SO much better. And then it was November, aka time for my second follow up of the school year. I was sitting at my Endo's office expecting the usual reminders to check my sugars and measure out my food. Instead, she greeted me with amazing news. Beautiful lab results. No more meds. No more follow up appointments. Keep checking your blood sugar for a couple months, just in case... but you should be fine. Looks like what you're doing is working, so keep doing it! I don't want to see you back here again!
Elated was probably an understatement. And during this road to recovery, I realized I gained a couple lbs, but I felt better and looked better. I was happy! Very, very happy!
Elated was probably an understatement. And during this road to recovery, I realized I gained a couple lbs, but I felt better and looked better. I was happy! Very, very happy!
And it all went uphill from there (apart from that little random mono relapse, but that's unrelated). I graduated college and moved to L.A. I vowed to continue CrossFitting, so I joined a box and fell in love. I enjoyed training in an environment full of supportive and determined individuals. The coaches and the community were amazing. I started training 5-6 days a week. I listened to my body and took rest days when I needed them.
And obviously, my primary reason for training isn't to look good (although looks are definitely secondary, lol). In the beginning, I trained to feel better. Now, I train because I love CrossFit. My body feels good when it's lifting something heavy, or pushing through a chipper. I feel my best when I'm strong. And because I respect my body, I shall continue to WOD, lift and eat (and mobilize).
You're calling me fat? Oh big deal, I may be fat in your eyes, but in mine, I'm strong and super healthy, and that's all that matters to me. You're calling me bulky? Well, it doesn't affect me. I feel good like this. I chose to lift, and I like myself like this. At least I know that I won't have to worry about being too weak to carry a ton of heavy boxes when I move in and out of apartments. You're laughing at me because I no longer fit into size 4 shorts at J.Crew? Laugh away, I'm glad I can entertain you while working to achieve my goal (gainz baby)! It's a win-win! :)
via instagram
And obviously, my primary reason for training isn't to look good (although looks are definitely secondary, lol). In the beginning, I trained to feel better. Now, I train because I love CrossFit. My body feels good when it's lifting something heavy, or pushing through a chipper. I feel my best when I'm strong. And because I respect my body, I shall continue to WOD, lift and eat (and mobilize).
You're calling me fat? Oh big deal, I may be fat in your eyes, but in mine, I'm strong and super healthy, and that's all that matters to me. You're calling me bulky? Well, it doesn't affect me. I feel good like this. I chose to lift, and I like myself like this. At least I know that I won't have to worry about being too weak to carry a ton of heavy boxes when I move in and out of apartments. You're laughing at me because I no longer fit into size 4 shorts at J.Crew? Laugh away, I'm glad I can entertain you while working to achieve my goal (gainz baby)! It's a win-win! :)
Partner in crime!
via Personal Facebook
Today, I am completely happy with my body. I actually consider my old clothes not fitting a good thing, I'm okay with my thighs getting bigger and touching. I'm okay with taking my nice dresses to a tailor to alter because my shoulders and biceps are getting bigger. I haven't stepped onto a scale for the longest time, and the one time I did, I didn't freak out when I found out I gained 7lbs. I'm actually the happiest I've been with myself.
Murph at the park with my Beast West family.
via instagram
And so now, after all this thinking and reflecting, I realized that what that man said to me today was nothing more than a bunch of words. Honestly, when it happened, the first thing that came to my mind wasn't oh my gosh, shoot, do I really look like a man? Instead, it was ouch, wow, sir you're just rude, who are you to come and say this to me... oh please. I didn't even think to put down the dumbbell I was holding. My goals still haven't changed; I still want to lift heavier, metcon faster, improve what I'm terrible at (haha, hello there snatches, double unders and all things kipping) and become stronger every day. And I know that to accomplish these goals, I'll keep getting bigger, and I'm more than okay with that. Actually, I like that, like a lot! #beastbody
And I'm going to end this post with what I wish I told the guy:
Oh by the way sir, just so you know... I do not lift like a guy. I'm a girl, who lifts. Therefore... I lift like a girl! ;)
Toodles!
xoxo
xoxo
Joy
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