Hello Fit Feminist community!

I’ve so enjoyed my monthly posts here, but I wanted to let you know this will be my last regular post for a while. It feels like a good time for me to turn my focus to other things that have been asking for my attention. I hope to do an occasional guest post and will, of course, continue to read! Thank you so much for having me as a regular contributor, for reading my reflections, and for your thoughtful and supportive comments.

Let’s get to it!

Last year I wrote about my knee injury and the moderate toll it took on my mental state. In passing I’ve heard that knees strongly correspond to our feelings of control and stability, and that knee injury sufferers often feel a loss of control. At the same time, I’m grateful I’m not alone. Sam’s written here about her knee injury, and in the comments on my last knee post, there were so many readers who discussed their own knee woes.

Since my injury, I’ve also noticed increased pain and tension in my hips and glutes, which requires regular attention. Apparently, this is one of the most common side-effects from knee-injury-sufferers. Hips work harder to compensate for injured knees. (Have any other knee injury sufferers noticed this??) It’s sort of cool to think that my body has my back in this way. But at the same time, the regular hip and butt pain isn’t so cool.

In one of the comments on my previous post, a reader wrote about a friend who also suffered a knee injury. This friend spent so much time and effort rehabilitating their knee that it became stronger than the uninjured knee! This comment inspired me.

I’ll admit to being a little loosey-goosey with my own knee exercises now that my knee is mostly better. Of course, I’ve continued physio therapy and will do quad and knee exercises—but not with the kind of commitment that it would take to make my injured knee super strong.

I’ve been wanting to return to activities I used to love, like dance and martial arts. Additionally, my partner and I started working out together at a new gym near our house and it’s made me want to take up other activities together—for instance, I’d love to play squash together someday.

But then I remember my knee, and the fear of re-injury literally stops me from wanting to try anything challenging. I know that higher impact activities will demand a certain level of knee strength and stability. And there’s also a level of spontaneity involved in these activities one can’t always control. (There’s that fear of control loss again!)

At the same time, I was letting that fear stop me. And I wasn’t taking back my control of the situation and being proactive. I was also letting other people’s knee advice influence me. People who have suffered similar knee issues have told me things about never fully recovering, of never being able to do certain activities again, etc. And I suppose on some level I took their word for it. “Why work on something if I’m only going to fail?” Was my subconscious thought. “Other people seem to know better.”

More broadly, this is something I find myself constantly having to push back against (both in the fitness world and world at large): knowing when to listen to other people and when not to. Especially in terms of women’s fitness, there is such a high level of B.S. out there. But I have been inspired by the defiant spirit of the Fit is a Feminist Issue community. From the comment about knee strengthening to Tracy I.’s post about doing chin-ups.

The idea of being able to get an injured knee to be stronger than an uninjured one was such a simple thought that opened my eyes to many other things. Maybe I’ll achieve that, or maybe I’ll get close. But I can’t keep merely hoping it’ll be okay. Either way, it’s certainly better to try than to deprive myself of the activities I crave.

Thanks, Fit Feminists!

In November, I wrote about the possibility of participating in NOW magazine’s annual Love Your Body issue. Each year in January, the Toronto weekly magazine features ten Torontonians who speak on body positivity, and discuss their body’s stories.

Well, if you picked up last week’s copy, you’d see that I was selected to participate! And frankly, I debated sharing this here at all. But the experience was important, I think.

In the piece itself, I speak on my mixed-race heritage, and the ways in which I have seen my Chinese descent make itself known through my body, especially as I age.

When it came up in conversation, I would get two reactions: first, people would congratulate me. Then, they’d tell me how they could never do it. NEVER!

Nudity wasn’t something that was considered scandalous in my childhood home. I grew up in a small house with one full bathroom. Often, someone would be in the shower while someone would be on the toilet and someone else would be using the mirror. Tight quarters and modesty don’t really go together.

Maybe I’m a different breed. I’ve always wanted to do something like this. I’ve wanted to volunteer to model for a life drawing class for ages. I’ve thought seriously about burlesque performance (which I still won’t rule out). It’s not that I’m an exhibitionist, per se. But I think I have a beautiful and unique body. Not one that I’m happy with all the time, but one that I love deeply. And that part of me is excited to volunteer for public nudity in certain contexts.

The photoshoot itself was a good experience. In attendance, there was the make-up artist, photographer, art director, and the organizer I’d been corresponding with. Everyone was kind and easygoing. (They too admitted that they couldn’t imagine being on my side of the camera, which I thought was kind of funny.)

It was surprising how normal the whole thing felt. I undressed to my bra and underwear, had my hair and make-up touched up and was moisturized from head-to-toe. We did a couple photos to test the lighting, and I was asked to remove bra and underwear when I was ready. To be honest, after an hour of poses and shooting, it was actually pretty boring. Just posing this way and that, tilting my chin up or down, turning my head an inch this way or that. My mind was on the new sandwich place I was going to with my partner after the shoot.

However, seeing the issue for the first time, debating whether to post about it, and reading (some of the not-so-nice) letters to the editor in the following week’s issue is a different story.

The magazine came out last Thursday, and the Wednesday night before, my partner and I went on a long walk where I aired my many anxieties. The biggest one was: What will people say? And this was a crushing realization, because one of the things I very much aim to work on personally is to not let the (real or imagined) criticisms of others affect how I live my life. The fact that this photo of me was out there, all over the city (AND ON THE INTERNET) suddenly became real. I had a very real moment of WHAT HAVE I DONE?!?! I felt so incredibly vulnerable. Raw. Like a scab that had just been picked. I was embarrassed and afraid. And at the same time, I think these feelings were completely okay to have, they made perfect sense. Who wouldn’t feel vulnerable in that position?

But by Friday, I felt different. I felt quietly proud and bold and strong. Nervous, yes. But excited. And after a few more days, I felt powerful and sexy and badass.

I can’t say that I did very much to experience this rapid change in feelings, other than I let them happen. I didn’t suppress the ones that felt bad, or my fears, but just let them be heard. (After all, I was naked in a very public setting. They had a point.) The entire experience has been a huge opportunity, not only to participate in something meaningful, but to confront my own deeply held fears.

The experience is still in the back of my mind, and as time passes, it will be something I care about less and less. Currently my thoughts are at: “Well, I don’t have anything that people haven’t seen before.” And I realize too it’s a privilege that this is the case for me. Others featured in this issue—such as a woman who was born without arms, a transman, and a young woman who had breast cancer, have bodies that are far less often seen by a broader public. Truly, I am honoured to be alongside them.

What about you? Would you do it? Which of your body’s stories would you want to tell?

I decided last month to get back to the gym. It had been a while since I’d regularly attended, despite being in a good groove last winter. Going to the gym was about my alone time, my unwinding time. I’d put on a podcast and rather than rush to get there by taking my bike or transit, I’d walk the 30 minutes from my place to the YMCA on College street.

But, I always find getting back into gymming after time away to be challenging. And then there’s the gear. I’ve got to pack a bag complete with gym shoes, gym socks, sports bra, tights and gym shirt, Bluetooth headphones, a snack, protein shake, ball cap, iPhone, and a lock. It really becomes a whole “thing” to go to the gym.

So last month I decided to do something differently—what if I just didn’t make it a thing? What if I just worked out in whatever comfy home clothes I wore that day? What if I stopped by the Y as one of my various errands I had to do in the area? What if it wasn’t about getting a “good workout”, but just about going and doing the exercises I’ve been craving?

I was excited about this new mindset, but when I arrived in my baggy sweatpants and loose Homer Simpson t-shirt, I definitely noticed that I stood out from the other women there. Most women my age wear the same gym uniform: black or patterned tights and a snug sweat-wicking tank top. In fact, that’s what I normally wear too. But something felt different this time going dressed as “myself.”

I think that, on some level, when I was dressed in the usual workout uniform, it was very easy for me to look to other women and their bodies and compare myself. After all, when we’re all wearing the same thing, it becomes pretty easy to notice the differences. She’s thinner. She’s more muscular. She’s got bigger x, or she’s smaller y. I know I’m not supposed to do this sort of thing. It’s bad for self-esteem, self-image, and generally doesn’t help with my own fitness goals or accomplishments. But it happens. Even when I don’t intend it to. Actually, especially, when I don’t intend it to.

Outside of the gym, I’m the kind of person who places a lot of my self-expression in my sense of style. Having fun with fashion is a big part of who I am. But donning the gym uniform felt to me as if I was stripping away a part of myself when I’d go workout. And while the clothes are also about function, I’ve just never been the sort of person who enjoys skin-tight clothes in any context. (So why did I think I’d enjoy it at the gym??)

Unfortunately, the activewear industry is for the most part fairly uniform these days, apart from some advances in certain areas (as with the launch of the Nike Pro Hijab). I was hard-pressed to think of other types of self-expression or diversity in activewear. Even a quick Google search of “diverse activewear” pretty much shows the same sorts of things: bright and tight.

Ah well, for now I’ll stick to my oversized Homer Simpson t-shirt.

What about you? Do you care about what you work out in? Is it about comfort physically or psychologically? Does it feel like “You” or an extension of You? Or do you feel self-conscious?

Hello Fit Feminist readers and contributors!

We here at Fit is a Feminist Issue talked about updating the look of the blog. Several attempts later, voila! What do you think? Did you notice? Have a look around! Feel free to leave a comment!

Same great content, brand new look!

This month, I don’t feel like I have anything especially reflective or clever to say about fitness stuff.

I just got back from a period in Banff, where I attended a workshop and enjoyed my time isolated in the Rocky Mountains.

While I was there, I fully allowed myself to exist in “The Bubble.” No news. Limited communication with the outside world. Limited mindless Internet browsing. And less coffee. (Gasp!)

I have to say, it was transformative.

It’s amazing what a little peace and quiet will do for your mental state.

Lately, I have felt the painful hum of current events more and more acutely. I have become more anxious about the state of the world, and those who seem to run it. Naturally, I’ve always been a very optimistic person and in the past, the gloom of current events tended not to bring me down as much as they have more recently. It’s as if the world’s worries feel more palpable to me.

Maybe it’s because I’m getting older? Or maybe it’s because things are getting worse? Who knows.

In any case, allowing myself to experience what was in front of me was just the thing I needed. I felt my spirits lift, my anxieties decrease, and my overall mental and emotional states improve. I felt a clearer sense of myself, what I value, and how I want to be in the world.

In coming back home, I want to find a way to maintain that peaceful state of mind—and I feel myself already worrying that it won’t last long.

Before I left, I was often pulled between several tasks at once, or just felt a general sense of NOISE in the back of my mind. I felt this intense need to hurry up, to keep the pace. I would lose entire weeks without realizing what even happened or what I’d done. Indeed, I have started incorporating a broader practice of mindfulness and meditation into my daily life. But there was something about feeling physically sheltered by mountains from the chaos of the world. It was just so quiet.

As I said, I don’t have anything particularly witty to share today. Only the hope that you too find time for peace, for quiet, and for yourself in this increasingly noisy world.

I rang in 2017 with a bad knee sprain.

I had no idea how long this would take to heal, not to mention the complications of re-injuring my knee twice since the initial sprain in the winter.

The initial injury happened in a way that was totally preventable, and I felt a lot of anger about the way it happened. I was on an airplane, flying back to Toronto from Calgary. I was in the window seat, and there was another passenger in the aisle seat. At one point during the 4-hour journey, I had to go to the washroom, and asked her if I could get by. She tucked her knees in so I could get past her (which was very awkward). On my way back to my seat, she had her phone plugged into one of the seats in front of her and I again, had to climb over her awkwardly and maneuver over her phone cord. In trying to twist back into my seat, I felt my left knee pop, buckle and then flush with excruciating pain. It hurt so badly, I thought I had broken it somehow.

WHY didn’t I politely ask her to get up so that I wouldn’t have to awkwardly climb over her?? Well, I’ve learned my lesson about maneuvering into tight spaces and speaking up.

Since the winter, I enlisted the help of osteopaths, physiotherapists, massage therapists and got advice from a personal trainer. It’s been nine months now, and my left knee is still in the healing process. From what I’ve learned, knees (and joints in general) can take a very long time to heal.

Certainly, a physical injury can take an toll. You have to pay attention to it, nurture it, strengthen it, and hope that it continues to get better. In part, increased biking has helped me to strengthen my quads (as advised by the healthcare professionals I’d spoken to). But it is still occasionally tender and I still worry about reinjuring it yet again, now that it’s been compromised.

The first osteopath I saw mentioned to me that a knee injury (well, any injury) takes not only a physical toll, but a mental one too. It can make you feel unstable, shaken, and a little insecure. Certainly, I have found this to be the case for me. I’m much more cautious about how I move around. I feel concerned about re-injury, or what this will mean for the future. I wanted to take a tap dance class this fall, but with my knee still not feeling up to the task, I had to postpone.

I find myself worrying and wondering if it will ever heal completely—or at least to a place I feel good about. And more than that, I’ve had to deal with anger at myself for even “letting” the injury happen the way it did in the first place.

Then, there are the moments of self-comparison. I look to other people who have sustained far more serious injuries than myself and think, “They’ve got it way worse. What do I have to complain about?”

Beyond day-to-day concerns, I have found that my enthusiasm for exercise has waned slightly. I have fears about damaging my knee further (even with a lot of the helpful advice and information I’ve received about strengthening it). Putting these restraints on myself make me wonder if I have started to “coddle” my knee too much out of fear of further injuring it.

Of course, this fear isn’t necessarily productive when it comes to recovery or healing. But, I suppose it is one part of the process.

Thinking about the mental tolls of physical injury have reminded me how interconnected our bodies and minds are.

Moving forward, I’ve realized it’s important for me to address and acknowledge these mental tolls as things that need healing just as much as the physical healing my knee requires.

What about you?

What experiences have you had with injury and healing? Do you find physical injuries take a mental toll? How do you address physical injuries and what ways do you go about healing them?

There’s something about physical labour that is very satisfying in a way that’s different from working out.

One of my favourite essays is “Eating Dirt” by Charlotte Gill. It’s about her summers as a tree planter in BC. In it, Gill captures the full-bodied exhaustion and mysterious bliss of physical labour as she recounts 12-14 hour days of hiking and planting trees.

Over the last five years, I’ve been involved with seven moves, some of which were my own. There’s a joke in the Netflix series, Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt where one character says that she’s started a new workout routine where she moves furniture around, “My trainer is this Israeli guy with a big truck and…” (just then she figures out that her new form of exercise is just helping people move).

Perhaps one of the things I find satisfying about physical labour is the tangible sense of accomplishment. This isn’t to say that working out doesn’t also give me a sense of accomplishment; it’s just different. Knowing that I can move all the contents of my apartment into a truck, and out of a truck into a new home is pretty cool.

I don’t always feel as tough and strong from lifting pieces of metal up and down at the gym. (Again, sometimes yes. But it’s different to know you can lift big heavy objects…or is this just me?)

Or maybe my appreciation of physical labour has something to do with the fact that my main work is sitting at a computer for large chunks of the day, either reading or writing. I’ll admit that my enjoyment of physical labour is probably because I get to choose when I engage with it and I don’t necessarily have to do it every day.

One of my part-time gigs is working in the taproom of a local craft brewery in Toronto. When I’m not pouring beer, this involves a lot of heavy lifting, loading and unloading things, moving kegs and other heavy things. There’s something very practical about it all: Move object from point A to point B because you have to or because you need that keg over there. And by the end of the day, the feeling of “Wow! I did that!”

One of my friends joked this spring that by the end of the summer I’d be “ripped” from working at the brewery. She wasn’t wrong. I have noticed muscle growth in my biceps and shoulders that makes me feel big and strong. Maybe what I like is knowing that I don’t have to ask someone bigger than me (i.e., a man) to help me complete physical tasks that need to get done.

In my last post, I wrote about buying a new bike, and elsewhere I’ve written about my intense fear of urban cycling. In the last month, I’ve used my bike exclusively to get around, using transit maybe once in over a month. Doing so has completely changed my perspective of what I’m capable of. It’s freeing, really. Knowing that I can take myself places under my own physical power is exciting and awesome.

I suppose part of my newfound love of physical labour is about seeing myself in a new light. When I first started writing for this blog maybe ten months ago, I used to see myself as someone who wasn’t very physically capable or active. I saw myself as physically awkward, not very strong, not capable of performing certain physical tasks. But physical labour proves these self-doubts wrong in a very tangible and visible way.

I can no longer delude myself into thinking I am not physically capable or active if I can bike 30km’s in a day, or lift fifty pound kegs from point A to B, or move an apartment’s worth of stuff.

Slowly my self-image has started to change. And perhaps another ten months from now I’ll be accomplishing things I wouldn’t think possible now.

When I was learning to drive, my instructor would always say, “Set yourself up for success.”

By this she meant, don’t make driving harder on yourself than it has to be. Especially as a new driver. Park in places that are easy for you to pull out of (i.e., forwards instead of backwards), drive routes you’re comfortable with, drive at times you’re comfortable with, have things in your car that allow you to enjoy your time driving (e.g., music you like or picked out yourself, etc.). I started driving young—you sort of had to where I grew up. And eventually I became someone who not only loves to drive, but who is also pretty good at it (if I do say so myself!).

I’ve been thinking about this advice now that I live in Toronto and no longer drive—or rather, refuse to drive in a city of this size and level of congestion. For so many reasons, I know that biking is the smart thing to do. And yet I have my serious hang-ups and anxieties around it. (Read here for more.) The gist of it is, urban biking scares me. I’m intimidated as a cyclist (by cars, streetcars, buses and other more experienced cyclists) and I probably just haven’t gotten enough hours in for it to feel very natural to me. More than that, having to take up urban cycling in Toronto of all places can make one feel as if they’ve been thrown in the deep end.

Sure, I know how to bike. And heck, I’ve even biked around Toronto as a commuter a good handful of times. But now that summer is in swing, I find myself timid to get back on the bike…but at the same time, the last place I want to be is on a crowded subway car when I could be outside, and above ground.

And then I remembered my driving instructor’s advice: Set yourself up for success.

What would this look like with regards to cycling?

First of all, my bike was a couple years shy of being an antique. Someone had given it to me when I had no bike, and I happily accepted. It was better than no bike!

But it had its share of issues. It was rickety and rusty, and while it was pretty cute, it was never fun for me to ride. It was uncomfortable. The seat was hard and even with a cushy soft cover, it still hurt one’s sensitive areas. Any time I’d ride over the slightest bump, everything would rattle (much like my first car, actually. An ’83 Ford Mustang that ran on about 3 and a half cylinders). Beyond riding, it was difficult to adjust anything on my bike—gears, the height of the seat or handlebars. (The bolts and screws were rusty and nearly stripped—probably as old as the bike itself.)

I don’t know why I didn’t realize sooner how little I enjoyed interacting with this bike. Maybe it’s the kind of thing when you decide to get rid of something, its flaws become glaringly obvious to you.

However, even with all these issues as I saw them, it was still a decent and functional bike. I listed it online and a handful of people were eager to take it off my hands. It was a great fixer-upper, or even decent enough to commute for someone who wasn’t too fussy. On Monday, I sold it to someone who was more than happy to buy it. (One person’s trash is another person’s treasure has never been truer!)

And by Tuesday, I’d tracked down a shiny new (not-rickety) bike at the Bikes on Wheels in Kensington Market. It jumped out at me as soon as I got there: a beautiful bright yellow bike with my name on it.

By Wednesday it was mine to ride home.

And WHAT A DIFFERENCE! A smooth ride, gears that shifted easily, a low bar (which makes it easy for someone short like me to hop on and off), lightweight (easy to pick up), and easy to adjust.

From the first test ride around Kensington Market I could tell that my reservations about biking weren’t all about Toronto traffic. A large part of my resistance was around having a bike that was difficult to deal with. It was like I didn’t even know that biking could be enjoyable.

Getting more comfortable on the road will come over time. That I’m sure of. I know that I’m still “too slow” as I often get passed by other cyclists. I’m cautious, but I’m lacking in a bit of confidence and certainty. But that’s what I was like as a new driver too. And over time, I became better, more confident, and developed a sort of sixth sense about driving.

I’ve made the first moves in setting myself up for success as a city cyclist and it’s opened up the city for me in a new way! I don’t feel beholden to transit, I can get places more efficiently than walking, and I’m excited to develop as an urban cyclist.

I’d love to hear your tips and stories about urban cycling. What do you do to set yourself up for success? What struggles have you overcome? Or what do you love most about it??

This post isn’t exactly about fitness but with summer around the corner, I find myself thinking about the tired “bikini body” tropes. You know, how we all have to get our bodies “ready” to be seen by other people in public…

Well, this week my partner and I are headed to his hometown of Rockaway Park in Queens, NY. It’s an amazing beach community on the southern peninsula of Queens.

In anticipation of the trip, I decided to give the whole two-piece bathing suit another try.

I finally figured out: Hey! I feel good about my body in my underwear—I think I look pretty damn good, even. So why do I feel so uncomfortable in a two-piece? Oh, I see… Other people.

Well, fear of what other people think be damned! The older I get, the more I realize (not only does it not really matter), but no one’s even looking at me anyway.

So off I went to in search of a proper two piece.

The main problem, however, was my boobs. Or rather, the lack of selection for those with a “D-cup-and-up.”

I started by doing some preliminary searching online… “Bikini tops for larger busts” yielded some results, but what I found was a lot of tops that tried to hide or diminish parts of the body.

What makes you think that just because I have a larger bust, that I also want to hide it? Or hide my stomach? Do larger busts and larger stomachs automatically go together?

I continued my search at the Eaton Centre… I found that most companies offered larger sizes of bikini tops, but these are just simply larger versions of their cute flouncy tops that are meant for smaller busts. For those of you out there who share my struggle, you know this doesn’t quite work. Simply making a bikini top larger doesn’t always take into other concerns like support, side-boob coverage, the feeling of security that I won’t accidentally flash half the beach while coming out of the water. (#bigboobproblems)

The worst part of it was just how many useless tops there were out there. Certainly, I can’t be the only person with larger breasts who also wants to wear a two piece (AND move around with said two piece on her body without the fear of it falling off).

Lately I’ve become less and less impressed by what stores have to offer. I don’t consider myself to have an especially rare body type, but even if I did, what would I do then?? I’m annoyed (at best) and totally pissed off (at worst) when I’m made to feel like something is wrong with me because things in stores don’t fit me properly. (Not to mention other issues like high prices for low quality, the use of sweatshop labour to produce high volumes of clothes out there these days…)

So now what? I don’t have a particularly satisfying way to wrap up this post. I guess my frustration around consumerism, patriarchy, and other bullsh*t are just a bit higher than usual these days, and the bathing suit shopping incident was that thing that pushed me over the edge.

I have this note to myself written above my desk in my office that says, “Create before you consume” and this idea can act as the antidote I sometimes need against the bombardment of body and beauty standards out there in stores and malls. If anything, it’s a reminder…just because I live in a consumer culture, doesn’t mean I have to be a mindless consumer. I, too, am someone who is capable of creating things. And that, for me, has always been empowering.

I recently took up knitting and sewing as a way to make my own clothing. There are even classes in Toronto on how to make your own bras and bathing suits. While I realize this isn’t for everyone, I find something deliciously rebellious about not needing to buy stuff when you can make it yourself.

But this can mean lots of things for lots of people: Create a positive self-image before you consume… Create time for yourself before you consume… Create your own version of something before you consume… Whatever this means to you!

Anyway, I’ll be happily lounging on the beach this week in my bikini body; by which I mean, there will be a bikini on my body.