#smaller people get MORE pushups of course

[torntruth]

unless you're like yurgir size, i know karlach can do at least one pushup with anyone on her back depending on their size.

[fatkish]

Hii!! If it's alright, Can I request a Muzan x Reader, Sfw, where the reader is chubby and quite insecure about her body so she pressures herself to improve herself in not only appearance and weight but in skills because she sees him as the perfect being that he is. But the pressure comes to point it's hurting herself?

Muzan x Chubby Fem Reader

You don’t really know when it started, this fixation on needing to be ‘perfect’. Perhaps it was ever since you met your current romantic partner, Muzan. Now you’re not blaming him for your current situation with yourself. It’s just hard to believe that someone as perfect and beautiful as him would ever truly love someone like you. That’s what you believe. You’re not what anyone would define as skinny, you definitely wouldn’t be able to win any beauty contest. And it’s not like you have some amazing phenomenal skill that draws attention away from your physical appearance or makes up for it.

Despite everything, you can’t help but compare yourself to Muzan. So much so, that you’ve started to eat less and less. You made smaller portions for your meals. And then you started to have less meals. You also began to workout. Jogging in place, doing pushups, anything that could possibly help you lose weight. But nothing worked. You tried your hand at various different crafts like sewing, tailoring, ceramics, etc. but each thing you tried was a flop and ended up in some kind of mess or failure. Not only were you essentially useless, you were fat. That’s what you told yourself day in and day out.

Muzan would often times be away for ‘business’, you both knew that you knew he was a demon. That’s why it never bothered you when he was away. You understood that more than likely he was away doing demon related things during his ‘business’ trips. You knew that he ate people and you were fine with it. He was astonished when you explained to him that you viewed demons as humanity’s natural predators. You explained how predator and prey relationships work in an environment and how you believe that demons are a necessary part of life, keeping the human population under control and keeping it from becoming overpopulated.

Maybe it was your peculiar way of thinking that made Muzan interested in you. But why he still is interested, you wouldn’t know. When Muzan is away, that’s when you would workout and rarely eat. He of course would send you messages via his third upper moon Akaza, telling you when he would be back or such. You had been working so hard and eating so little that it started to have adverse effects on you. You were often tired but you figured it was just that your body was getting used to the exercise. You had no idea how badly your body was being affected.

It wasn’t until Muzan came back one night and witnessed you fainting. He quickly caught your body and set your body down on your futon. Knowing medicine, the man quickly began to examine your passed out self. When you woke, you were met with those beautiful red eyes staring at you. Muzan was seated next to your futon, a book in his hand as he read, and a bowl of water next to him. You felt a damp rag on your forehead and realized you must have a fever. Muzan shut the book rather loudly and drew your attention to him.

“My dear, would you like to explain to me why you’re so fatigued and managed to catch a fever. I do believe I have explained to you how that body works and how to prevent getting sick.” Muzan spoke in a stern tone.

You clutched your blanket in your hands as you looked down at your lap. You nervously bit your lip as the love of your life, the most perfect being, stared at you awaiting your answer. Your face felt warm and your vision grew blurry as your eyes welled with tears. As the tears fell and landed in your lap, you closed your eyes.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered.

Muzan gently grabbed your chin and turned your head to look at him.

“Look at me” he said. You looked into his eyes as he gently wiped away your tears.

“Now, now, what’s with the waterworks my dear?” He spoke in that velvety voice of his.

You bit your lip as you thought about your fears and insecurities. You wanted to lie and say you were fine, but you knew that Muzan would easily see through any lie you told. So you told him the truth. You confessed to him about how little you’ve been eating and how hard you’ve been working your body. You told him about how you’ve grown insecure about your body and the thoughts that run through your head. As you confessed to him, he sat there and listened intently and gently rubbed your back. As you finished, he held a handkerchief out to you to wipe your eyes with.

After wiping your eyes, Muzan helped you lay back down and replaced the damp rag with a new one.

“My dear, you could have killed yourself, starving yourself and working yourself so hard paired with the little sleep made yourself the perfect target for illness. Your immune system was weakened considerably, making it easy for you to get sick. While I am flattered that you think me to be the perfect being, I cannot allow you to continue with this. Once you’re healthy, I will help you try to find a way to help you lose weight without hurting yourself. But no more of this foolishness, do you understand?” Muzan chided.

You nodded and closed your eyes as your tiredness took over.

“Get some rest love.” Muzan softly spoke as he continued to read.

[the-slasher-files]

AVARICE

INCLUDES CHROMESKULL

It is so nice to finally write for a Slasher that can actually afford nice things so I went all out... All the other big stabby men either don’t have jobs or have low income so Jesse is a nice change lol. Lets get into the luxury! Now I honestly went WILD with this one, like it is a bit much lol so take the warnings. Warnings: knives, dirty talk, squirting, choking, mirror sex, spanking, afab reader.. enjoy🔪💕

High heels clacked along the marble floor of the unfamiliar hallway, only to be lead by the man in front of who carried your suitcase. You couldn’t remember his name but he was the manger of the luxury hotel who told you your boyfriend had reserved the penthouse suite for the weekend. Jesse never let you visit him on his “work trips” but this one was seemingly difficult from the length of time he had been gone. 3 weeks you counted. 3 weeks without his hands. 3 weeks without his smell incasing you. 3 weeks without his lips. This was a torture you had never known. Was it possible to die from sexual starvation? 

“Here we are...” the man pulled you from your thoughts and lead you into the massive room, putting down your bags. “If you need anything do not hesitate to call us Mrs. Cromeans” You smiled as the man left, of course Jesse told them you were his wife.

Turning your attention to the room, it was absolutely stunning. Floor to ceiling windows in every direction giving you full view of beautiful LA. The room had a full kitchen with beautiful black granite counter, a big living room with a white rug on the rich wooden floors between the dark leather couches, there was the finest marble on the walls and floor of the large bathroom, and everything looked so luxurious it made you a little uncomfortable. Coming from a smaller town and working a boring 9 to 5 job you could never be able to afford even an hour in this hotel, but that was before you met Jesse of course. The man had an insatiable hunger for wealth and the finer things in life, even if that meant stepping over people to get to the top, and he made that apparent in your everyday life. 

Walking over to the bedroom there was a bottle of your favorite champagne chilled in a bucket of ice on the nightstand, and two black boxes with satin red bows on the California king sized bed. Shaking your head you kicked off your heels and sat on the bed, picking up the white little note card with his business logo at the top, it read:

Beautiful Dove, 

           Put on everything. I will meet you around 8. Miss you so so much baby.

Jesse

Simple, straightforward and with a twist of lust coating the words he had hand written, making you smirk and rub your thighs together. Opening the first perfectly wrapped box, your eyes widened at the sight. It was a beautiful lacy pushup bra, with straps framing your chest like an art, and the lacy thong to match, of course all in black. 

Moving on to the second box, you gasped seeing the expensive material and pulling it out. It was a silky red drape dress, knowing it would frame and highlight Jesse’s favorite parts of you. He knew you too well. Knew how to make any woman fall to their knees, willingly or not. 

Looking at your watch it was 4 o'clock, you had time to kill, painful time. Trying to ease your nerves you ran a bubble bath with your favorite scents, and poured yourself a glass of the expensive champagne. Settling into the steamy water your mind was flooded with images of Jesse; the way he would touch you, gentle but always with an edge, the way his experienced tongue worked your body like a canvas, the way he teased you to tears but making it all worth it with the extreme surges of pleasure no one else could inflict. It almost made you moan from the memories, wanting to touch yourself, maybe even make yourself cum before Jesse could touch you but you knew it was in your best interest to not, he always found out. He probably had the place laced with cameras already. 

Some hours had passed and it was still a torturous hour and a half until 8. You had taken a bath, read, played on your phone, and admired the view but it was becoming dreadful waiting for him. Slipping out of the fluffy hotel robe, your hand grabbed the delicate lace lingerie and decided to put it on, gawking at yourself in the mirror as you fluffed your hair. Fuck it looked good. Finally putting on the red satin dress and your heels to perfect the image. 

Smoothing your hands down the dress feeling the luxurious material on your soft skin, another sensation appeared, a startling hard body pressed against your back and you gasped until there was a familiar low groan from the body behind you. Jesse. 

Before you could speak cold diamonds were being placed around your neck, your hands running along the sparkling gems. “Jesse... you didn’t have to do this” clasping the necklace he gingerly placed kisses on your neck and moving to your shoulder making you shudder.

“Touch starved?” He signed in front of you, normally it would make you giggle but just leaning into him was already making you tumble “Sorry little dove” moving his large hands away from your front, they trailed around your body, exploring like he had never known you. Whimpering already you felt Jesse’s bulge in his suit pants. 

Hearing the snap of a holster he brought one of his massive knives up to your flushed cheek making your breath hitch “Jes” you whispered lowly, you knew he would never hurt you but having a knife in your face was still scary. The cold flat side of the blade pushed your cheek making you look in the mirror. The master bedroom had a wall of windows and another with mirrors. He wanted to watch everything. Wanted you to watch everything.

The cold sharp tip of the blade pushed the dress off your shoulders and it pooled on the floor exposing your sexy lingerie to him. Jesse’s crooked smirk said everything, his brown and scarred blue eyes devoured you whole like a wolf, the knife trailed the details of the lace and straps. Every stroke of his hands and knife made you bit your lip trying to stifle the moans and whimpers.     

“Such a needy little thing” Jesse signed and removed the large blade making you face him, and kissing him breathless.

“Fuck, I missed you so much baby” you whimper shoving off his jacket and fiddling with his black dress shirt buttons, rubbing your thumbs over the little LV logos stamped in. Putting the knife into the champagne ice bucket on the nightstand, Jesse loosened his tie pulling it off his head and over yours, tightening it and pulling upwards making you look at him those doe eyes he loved so much.

“Missed you too baby girl” Jesse signed towering over you, walking backwards until you fell onto the bed. “gonna be my good little girl?” he asked bending down his large frame, long fingers tracing the lace over your clit and smirking. You were soaked, the anticipation was too much you moaned loudly forgetting his question until his large hand smacked your thigh hard.

“Fuck Jes-Jesse yes.. yes please.. I want to be good for you, p-please” you begged from only a simple motion of his hand, he owned you and that much was clear.  “Jesse I want you... I need you. Just dress me up and fuck me like a your little doll... please master”  

He smiled reeling in his power over you, “Good girl” he signed with one hand while the other went to your mouth, you sucked his fingers as a natural reflex. Pulling away his hand from your mouth he replaced it with his lips groaning into the kiss as you grinded against him. Snaking his hand in between you he forced 2 fingers inside your sloppy cunt making you squirm under him. Everything was too much all at once coming from 3 weeks without him, you immediately came hard around his digits as he curled them. 

“Poor little girl.. so deprived of me...” Jesse pulled away completely from you and undressed himself “Maybe I should bring you to my work trips more often” he signed watching you just nod and whine looking at his huge cock. Silently he laughed at your need “You want something baby?”

"Please master, please" you panted, roaming your hands around your recovering body. "Jesse"

"Turn around" he ordered, and you did as you were told, on your hands and knees looking in the mirror, watching his every movement behind you. "So fucking beautiful like that little dove" Jesse's hand met your ass with a beautiful sting making you jump foreword but kneel back to him for more, moaning when you felt his length rubbing against your pussy. One more harsh slap echoed through the room, making you hiss but Jesse bent down kissing the red flesh, feeling his teeth scrape against your ass as he pulled down the lace with his mouth. 

Seemingly the large mans patients was wearing thin as Jesse moved his hand in front of your mouth telling you to spit, you did and he did as well, stroking his length mixing the saliva together along with his precum, and slowly pushing into you. “oh my god.. J- Jesse...” you cried as he eased in inch by inch, slowly, a painful slow. 

Through hooded eyes you saw him sign in the mirror “Fuck.. so tight... it’s been too long baby girl” He felt you start to shake, he held your hips up and pushed your head down. Jesse went still within you as he hilted, letting you adjust to his massive cock, adoring the clench of your muscles and moans.   

Dragging his member inside you, taking his time watching you come undone below him. He missed you. Missed you so much to torture you. A dangerous kind of love for a man with all the power, but you wanted it all. 

“Jes.. please” you panted, wanting him to go faster, needing him to go faster. He did as you pleased growing impatient himself. Pulling out fully before slamming back into you with power, hitting every delicious spot inside you. “Don’t stop baby please” Jesse grabbed the black silky tie around your neck arching you back against his torso, allowing your arms to hold his neck, you watched him fuck you brutally in the mirror. The scene making you drip and scream against him. 

“Cum for me” Jesse signed quickly before holding your waist surly leaving in bruises behind, while his other hand circled your swollen bud, making you shake, cry and ultimately tumbling off the cliff into euphoria, clenching deeply around him.      

You attempted to form words but nothing was coming out as you just panted and whimpered, Jesse peppered soft kisses down your neck and shoulder smirking at you in the mirror. He let you go and pulled out to roughly flip you over on your back, grabbing his knife again that had been chilled by the ice, Jesse ran it in between your breasts cutting the brand new bra in half. 

Whining in protest he just chuckled and signed “There is always much more where that came from baby doll” shaking your head, what a wasteful man. He placed the freezing blade on your erect nipples for a moment then sucking with his warm mouth, the temperature difference making you arch and moan. 

Dragging the metal around your body he superseded the path with his hot tongue, your pupils blown with lust, and your nerves oversensitive. Jesse was fulling grinning, bearing his teeth like a wolf taking you in as the knife trailed your thighs teasingly. 

“P-please” you mewled feeling the hard tip of his cock aching for a release he thrusted into you harshly making you writhe on the bed. “Oh, god.. Jesse..” the sound of skin slapping furiously behind your moans he threw the knife away, clanging on the floor beside your discarded lace and stain dress, a sexual scene displayed on the hardwood. A tale of you and your lover. Luxury, sex, lace, and danger. 

His large right hand held your throat, cutting off your airway, preventing you from sliding up from the assault on your dripping cunt. Jesse’s left hand spread your messy pussy lips, watching him impale you over and over again. Your broken moans and cries sending him over the edge quickly, he needed you, just once more. His thumb began to press and circle your oversensitive clit making you see stars and want to black out from the pleasure. 

Your cunt clenched for the final time, showing Jesse it’s appreciation by squirting on his shaft and thighs, as he painted your insides with his hot seed. Releasing his hand from your throat you gasped and coughed roughly, Jesse supported your head and neck, hovering above you he panted and placed feather like kisses on your shaking body.

“Fuck... I missed this” you panted as he pulled out falling on the bed next to you. Rolling over onto his inked chest, gleaming with sweat, he stroked your hair and held you close. Just Jesse and you again tangled in the sheets, as it should be.

“Love you little dove” he signed and kissed you, hungry for more. Jesse always wanted more. His avarice side coating him like a fine armor, shining and glinting like the sweat along his chest, holding strong like his arms around you. 

[kahans]

(so the background behind this is basically that it’s the night before/of finnick’s 16th birthday and a week before snow held an auction to see who would get to sleep with him first. don’t ask me for that scene because it hasn’t been written yet)

title: victor’s crown book ii: lover’s war (title is a wip shhhh) status: incomplete word count: 1284 fandom: the hunger games characters: finnick odair, mags flanagan, random capitol ocs warnings: nonexplicit allusion to child prostitution other notes: don’t be expecting a whole lot from this lol it was not beta-ed and it was written in like a half hour

o-o-o-o

They come for him at midnight.

Finnick is lying on the couch with his head in Mags’ lap, doing his best to calm his unsettled nerves. He feels a little foolish, curled up next to his mentor like a small, frightened child, but he can’t bring himself to move. His proximity to Mags, the one person anchoring him to his composure in a storm of anxiety, is no longer a privilege. It is a necessity. Her hands, thin and lined with sinew, card through his hair. He tries to focus on the sensation of her fingertips against his scalp instead of the vicious whirlpool of trepidation stirring in his gut.

An hour earlier, Aurelia had come in bearing an armful of supplies to prepare Finnick for his big night. While she assembles her station of makeup, she gives Finnick a list of exercises to perform, for which he is grateful if only because it gives him something to do. He runs a couple of laps around his quarters. He does a few pushups. At Aurelia’s behest, he lugs a few weights up from the gymnasium and works with those until she tells him to stop. He isn’t quite sure what the point was if she wasn’t going to let him get in a full workout, but he suspects his first admirer won’t want to meet him smelling of and drenched in sweat.

While his flesh is still warm and his blood quick, Aurelia begins applying makeup with a swift but deliberate hand. She lines his eyes with a dark pencil and dusts his eyelids with brown. To Finnick’s dismay, she pinches his cheeks and instructs him to bite his lips. When he protests, she says, “I could apply lipstick instead,” and he hurries to comply.

Once his skin has been sufficiently prepared, she gives him an outfit to don: An elegant evening jacket dyed the deep blue-green hue of the sea hangs neatly over a crisp white dress shirt, accompanied by a pair of black pants. His shoes are equally shiny and also look brand new.

“Calliope sends her regards,” Aurelia says. Of all the outfits Calliope has stuffed him in in the past, this is certainly not the worst. Nor the best. Finnick wonders who ordered this made; surely this suit didn’t spring from her wild imagination.  

His question is answered when Vesper arrives exactly at midnight. Unlike Aurelia, he is almost glowing with frenetic excitement, bouncing on the balls of his feet like a child who just won a prize. His expression crumbles when he spots Finnick curled up on the couch, suit rumpled, hair in disarray, eyes shadowed and hollow with worry and lack of sleep. 

“What in the world are you doing?” he demands, scurrying over to where Finnick is sprawled. Mags’ hand moves from his head to his shoulder, innocuous to Vesper, but protective to Finnick.

“It’s late, Vesper,” Mags says coolly. Something about her countenance must warn Vesper that arguing could end very badly for him, so he rounds on Aurelia instead. “Why did you let him lie down?” He flaps a hand at Finnick. “Get up! Get up before your suit gets wrinkled!”

Finnick doesn’t obey immediately. He glances up at Mags, who looks down at him, expression ever unflappable but indubitably compassionate.

Head up, my boy, she reminds him, not with her voice but with her eyes. You are victor, and you wear the victor’s crown.

“There’s my beautiful grown up victor!” he crows at the sight of Finnick, gleaming and adorned like some kind of relic. They do not allow statues to be erected of anyone except notable Capitol figures in the districts, where their only legal objects of worship are Snow and the ideology his administration represents. But in the Capitol, Finnick has seen dozens, if not scores, of figurines and synthetic replicas of past victors, bronzed and painted and perfect, in every corner and cove of the city. “Aren’t you excited?”

It’s my birthday, he thinks somewhat dumbly. I’m sixteen years old. He should be home right now, celebrating with his family. His father should be letting him try his first taste of District 4′s prized champagne. His mother should be sewing on an official sailor’s patch onto his uniform to designate him as a full crew member of the fishing fleet. Perhaps she would make him the lovely fish-shaped cookies he once so loved, one for each year of his life.

“Well done, Aurelia,” Vesper says. “It’s just what Miss Poppywright wants, I’m sure. Is he ready? Have you gone over expectations with him?” 

“Expectations?” Finnick echoes, at the same time as Aurelia says, “Of course.”

Vesper shoots Aurelia a scathing look, but her defiant expression remains unchanged. “He’s already frightened enough, Vesper. Why make him more nervous? He’ll figure things out when he gets there.”

“Yes, and have him be the laughing stock of the Capitol,” Vesper replies sarcastically. He turns and fixes Finnick with an appraising glare. “Finnick, it is your duty to make this night spectacular for Miss Poppywright, do you understand? No mistakes. Just pure charm from you and absolute enjoyment from Miss Poppywright.”

Mags makes a noise of protest in the back of her throat, half rising from her spot on the couch. “Vesper--”

“Margaret,” Vesper interjects, and Finnick coughs back a noise of surprise at the use of Mags’ full name. “I hope you remember that Finnick’s conduct tonight, and for every night after this, will reflect back on all of us.” He makes a little circle with his finger to illustrate his point.

It takes a moment for the implications of Vesper’s warning to sink in, but when they do they sit in Finnick’s gut like an anchor and do nothing to quell his mounting dread. Whatever he did tonight would have an effect on everyone from Aurelia to Mags to his loved ones back home.

A familiar sense of apprehension flutters in him now, of a weight and intensity he has not experienced in years. The last time he knew this kind of panic, he was playing for his life in an arena, where his every decision had been like dipping a single finger in surface of a still pool of water: Even though the initial point of contact was small, the ripples, the effect of the action, could still be clearly seen. From simple disquiet, alarm rises unbidden, a tidal wave gathering out to sea. He instinctively looks to Mags.

“It’s all right, Finnick,” she says, rising from the couch. She stands in front of him, and even though he’s been taller than her since before she became his mentor, he’s never felt smaller. “You’ll be all right. Just remember what Aurelia told you. Listen to what they have to say, and say what they want to hear. That’s all they want.”

Be who they want you to be, not who you really are. The advice offered from Finnick to a nervous tribute seemed to have been spoken a lifetime ago. Look at how much good it did him, a little voice in his head pipes up.

“It’s after midnight,” Vesper says, breaking Finnick’s reverie with a wave of his manicured hand. “It’s not like he’s going off to war or something. He’ll be back tomorrow.”

Mags swallows, inhaling a deep breath through her nose. “Go on,” she says softly. “I’ll see you soon.”

Though it’s almost painful to muster, Finnick manages to put on a confident smile. “Don’t worry about me, Mags,” he tells her. “These people can’t help but love me.”

With a goodbye wink to Aurelia and a half-hearted salute to Mags, he turns and follows Vesper out the door.

[mortyvongola2-0]

Proof of Strength

Chapter 1: Whiff

Pairing: Alpha! Kylo Ren x Omega! Reader

Genre: a/b/o fic, slowburn, multichapter, 18+

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: language, sexual themes, lying, and a/b/o dynamics.

Read it on AO3

Next Chapter

The First Order offered great opportunities. You were poor and downtrodden when they showed up, claiming to have solutions to your poverty, that they would clothe, bathe, and provide food for all in exchange for hard work. Their propaganda promised a beautiful future, where no one would ever be as poor as you were again. Immediately, you wanted to join but there was one rather large problem. The First Order only hired alphas and betas. And therein lied your problem, as you were neither an alpha nor beta. You were an omega.

 Omegas were rare, as the gene mutation required to be an omega was even more recessive than the alpha gene. They were less independent, they required protection and mass amounts of supervision during their heats, and the biggest difference in strength was in their upper bodies, as omegas do not require the upper body strength of an alpha or even a beta. In exchange the lower body strength of an omega was much more prevalent then for either other designation. Being an omega was also a lot harder to hide then being an alpha, the hormones of an omega heavily influence those of other designations, which was most likely the reason why the First Order did not hire or train them.

 Nowadays, alphas found omegas to be more of a chore than anything. It used to be that alphas and omegas were fated to bond, that they would thrive well when mated with one another, but as more and more betas arose the less alphas wanted to put in the extra effort to take on an omega. You understood, if you weren’t an omega you wouldn’t want to have to be stuck with what the rumors made you sound like either. But, to you, there would always be something special about the bond between an alpha and omega. Others called you an idealist, or a romanticist, but you had seen that special bond firsthand. Your parents had that bond, so strong and beautiful, and you wished for that same sort of love.

 You scratched at the scent gland on the left side of your neck as you stared at the First Order poster on the wall. The wind blew your scarf into your face along with some grains of black sand. I could get away with it, you thought. This shouldn’t be a problem. You clicked your tongue and tugged the poster off the wall. My family needs the money, and everything else they’re offering doesn’t sound too bad. Can’t imagine it being any worse than this. You rubbed a dirty finger under your nose and began to walk back out and into the streets, the poster now shoved into your satchel and a hum on your lips, images of infiltrating the First Order playing continually in your mind’s eye. This’ll be fun.

 ~

 This is most certainly not fun, you thought as you crawled, much slower than everyone else, along the thick mud. The First Order really knew how to whip its people into shape, that’s for sure. You had passed their physical exam, as the differences between omegas and female betas bodies were very minimal hormone wise, and you made sure you had been suppressing with steroids long enough beforehand to not have to worry about being caught, besides hardly anyone tested for steroids anymore. Most designations didn’t suppress and if they did it was with more herbal remedies, as steroids were seen as archaic and more dangerous than helpful. The biggest differences between omega and beta, however, were all anatomically the same as an alpha. A bonding gland and six scent glands; one on each side of the neck right under the jaw and closer to the ears, one in each wrist, and one at each junction where pelvis met pubic area. But luckily for you, they didn’t do any full body scans and your bonding gland was smaller than average, so it could be easily passed as a simple knot or inflamed muscle on your shoulder.

 However, passing the physical labor portions, like crawling, climbing, heavy lifting, pushups, and even shooting, those were the tests where the true difficulty for you was. You were barely scraping by, and it took all your effort to be passable in these areas of strength. Unfortunately, that meant you were at the very bottom of your class, but at this point you were far too invested to give up. Passing was still passing; no matter what place you were. Though your testing scores and stamina more than made up for what you lacked. You were a quick study so your grades placed you above average testing wise, which balanced out with your physical scores, rounded you out to a nice average.

 You were very aware of how suspicious your weaknesses could make you seem, so you did your best to tone down the strengths of your lower body as well as worked really hard to increase what you could do with your upper body. And after a little more than a year of training, you were officially inducted as a member of the First Order, smack dab in the middle of your class. You were so proud of yourself and were extra relieved when you learned that your position put you far away from the frontlines.

 As time passed your work ethic brought you more and more promotions. Seven years after your graduation saw you as a lead programmer and the promotion after that brought you to your station on the Finalizer. You loved your job. The only downside to it was the amount of exposure to the Commander as well as the General of the First Order. Both of which were very strong alphas, probably the strongest you had ever seen. The stronger the alpha the better they could smell and the more reactive they were to omega hormones and pheromones/scents. You had to avoid them like the plague, as despite your monthly steroid suppressions they would still be able to catch a whiff of your scent. If you got too close your cover would be blown and you’d be removed, or worse killed, for your lies. Just thinking about it had you close to hyperventilating.

 “You alright?” Your coworker, Lee a beta, asked you and placed his hand on your shoulder softly. That snapped you out of your trance and you turned toward him calmly. You hadn’t realized that you’d been spacing out. Earlier that morning Kylo Ren had almost gotten close enough to smell you and that had thrown you into a frenzied inner monologue of please don’t take a deep breath, please don’t take a deep breath, please don’t take a deep breath!

 “Leave her alone, she literally almost bumped into the Commander this morning,” your other coworker, Avery also a beta, said in response to Lee. She pointed her fork at him and leaned forward on her elbows “Her life is probably still flashing through her eyes. She’s lucky he ignored her.”

“Ah man, that is lucky,” Lee mumbled and put his hand back down beside his plate. He picked up his eating utensils and used them to take a bite of the meat he had chosen from the dinner line. “Kylo Ren has been aboard for quite some time, why do you think that is?”

 Avery shrugged then pushed her plate forward, no longer interested in her dinner choices. She used her fork to emphasize her hand motions. “I don’t know, but the General has been really on edge because of it.”

 “Heh, he almost exploded this morning after Kylo Ren destroyed one of our consoles. I’d never seen so much color on his face before,” Lee snickered. You snorted in response, remembering the steaming General in all his angered glory. The feud between the ginger and the helmeted knight was no secret, they fought often and loudly. Hux with his sarcasm and snarky attitude and Kylo Ren with his blatant disregard for all of the rules and commands the General had in place. It was quite comical really, like a well-rehearsed routine. You slurped up your soup thoughtfully.

 “What I wouldn’t give to sit on that pale face,” Avery said in a playful lilt. You promptly spit out your soup and Lee choked on the water he had started to sip at.

 “Kriff, Avery, don’t say crap like that when I’m eating,” you grumbled and started to wipe up the mess you had made. She snickered and crossed her arms over her chest triumphantly, unashamed of her hazardous mindset. You could see it now, the General chuckling as he shoved her out the airlock for embarrassing him. You shivered.

 “What? I’m serious,” she said with a smirk. “He is one attractive man. You can’t tell me that you haven’t thought about it.”

 I’m too busy thinking about the ways he’d murder me if he got close enough to smell me, you thought and shook your head at her. “Nope, can’t say that I have.”

 “You’ve seriously never thought about it? What about for any of the other officers? Is there not an alpha you would pretend to be an omega for?”

 “Avery, give it a rest. Not everyone is as crazed as you,” Lee muttered. “Besides, don’t you think they would rather have an actual omega then someone pretending to be one?”

 “But there are hardly any left, plus I remember someone talking about how much of a hassle being bonded to an actual omega is.” That irked you. You doubted anyone, let alone any alpha, on this ship had actually met an unsuppressed omega let alone bonded with one.

 “Well you could still be a bit more respectful.” You nodded in response to Lee. Respect would be nice, you felt like you were owed at least a little of it due to your success in hiding who you were and proving that omegas were more than capable of caring for themselves. “Leave your weird fetishes for your diary log.”

 “How do you pretend to be an omega?” Curiosity had gotten the better of you.

 Lee sighed loudly and placed his hand against his forehead. “Why would you encourage her.” Avery, in response, beamed at you and leaned forward; both of her hands pressed against the table and fork long forgotten by her plate. “Pretending to be in heat is of course the main thing. Except, be a bit less needy and it’s not like you can actually last for as long as a real heat. You can also say a bunch of stuff about scent, and bonding, and blah blah blah, pretend to be weaker and in need of protection, it’s a lot of fun if your partner is into it.”

 “Gross,” you muttered and took another slurp of your soup. Heats in general were gross. They were long, lasting anywhere from 5 to 14 days. It started with a fever, general sluggishness, difficulty breathing and a foggy mindset, eventually your body would start the reproductive response. Slick would start to pool around your entrance and your glands would swell to the point of discomfort, it hurt quite a bit. An urge to lesson discomfort through orgasm would grow and eventually everything would begin to blend together. Pheromones would  be released in order to attract any nearby alpha and force them into a rut. The only things that could lessen the immense discomfort were sex and medications, but those were short term remedies, as their effects would dissipate rather quickly. Unless the sex involved a knot then, and only then, the discomfort would dissolve long enough for an omega to take care of themselves. Part of the reason why they required protection during their heats was because they risked dehydration and malnourishment the longer the heat went on.

 You had never had sex, let alone with an alpha, so you weren’t entirely sure how clear minded you became after knotting. Even now it had been many years since your last heat, but you could somewhat remember struggling through them earlier on in your life. “I don’t think so but, whatever. I’ve got to get back to training some new recruits.” Avery yawned and stood. She grabbed her tray and started walking toward the exit. “See you guys later.”

 “Bye,” you stated and waved in response, now trying your best to remember what struggling through your heat felt like.

 “She needs to keep quiet about stuff like that,” Lee told you quietly. “The First Order is very strict about relations between officers. She could get in real trouble for just saying some of that stuff.”

 “Then you need to be careful too.” A smirk crawled onto your face and you wiggled your eyebrows at him. “Did you think you and Miss Vanya were being discreet?” A light blush dusted his tan ears. You chuckled at his embarrassment and shook your head. “I didn’t need to hear the two of you in your office, but I did. You’re more of a screamer than I thought.”

 “I um, I just realized I still have a project I need to finish, so I’ll uh- we’ll talk later,” he scrambled to clean his area. “See you!”

 After he scurried off you kept your smirk and finished your soup. You checked the time to make sure you still had a bit before you needed to head back and lazily began to clean your space. A yawn escaped your lips as you started your trek back to your office.

 Lee and Avery were good people, very smart and hard workers. Avery had been your friend since your initial training, she had helped immensely with trying to get your upper body in shape. The two of you had been separated after initiation and reunited when they assigned you to this ship. Avery was now the trainer assigned to your section, working alongside or sometimes directly under you to help the newer programmers meet First Order standards.

 Lee had trained you in your original position when you first arrived on the Finalizer and now, he was directly in charge of the stromtrooper training programs and battle training designs. You were proud of him, even though his position meant you couldn’t see him as often. He was at Captain Phasma’s beck and call, coming up with the ideas that your department would bring to life via code. Again, you snickered thinking about his embarrassment at your discovery. You were determined to never let him live it down.

 Once you reached your office, you punched in your code and the doors easily slid open. Your main job was to receive orders and delegate the coding and programming to those under you. The paperwork was immense, and you hardly ever got to do any of the actual programming that you enjoyed, but you enjoyed the raise and respect the position brought you. Besides, if someone else didn’t understand or finish their work, it was up to you to do it so there were occasions when you got to do what you enjoyed, however rare they were. You slid into your desk chair quietly and got to work.

 Later in the evening, after your shift had finished, you entered your quarters and immediately knew something was wrong. The hairs on the back of your neck were standing, and your omega instincts were kicking into gear. Predator, your mind supplied. The faint scent of alpha pheromones tickled your nose and you shivered. The suppressants dulled your sense of smell, so you could not identify who it was, but you knew what they were. You took a tentative step forward, hands trembling and body on full alert. Who would have access to your quarters? Higher command had access, generals, captains, commanders. An alpha and a higher up, oh no. They must know. They’re here to kick me out, to kill me, they know!

 You took a few more steps forward, right outside the open entrance to your bed. They were in there, in your room, the smell was stronger in that direction. There was no sound, so they weren’t moving, but they were in there. A cold sweat broke out all over your body and you could take a guess as to who it was. It had to be the Commander. He was the only one who had been close enough to you to get a good whiff of your suppressed omega smell. Kylo Ren was absolutely going to murder you, no question. Still trembling, you resigned yourself to your fate, and finally stepped into your measly bedroom.

 And there he stood, in all his black and murderous glory. Kylo Ren was standing against the left wall, his visor was turned toward you, effectively intimidating you further. You almost squeaked under his intense scrutinizing and judging by the way his chest rose and fell a bit more deliberately, you knew he was taking in your scent. He took a large step forward; you took a frightened step backward. That cycle continued until you were no longer able to back up. He had you back up against your refresher door, his helmeted head literally pressed into the crook of your neck, one hand at you hip and the other holding your head back to further expose your nape. Your instinctual response was submission and following that instinct you craned your head away and further into his hold, effectively exposing your scent and bonding glands to him. I’m going to die, he’s going to strangle me, and I will die.

 And all at once, he pulled away.

[kentthewolf]

How To Rebrand YOURESELF, YOUR BUSINESS & EVERYTHING around YOU!

Who doesn’t love a good transformation story?

Someone who went from 0 to 100?

A Cinderella make-over?

A revolting little caterpillar who crawls along in life until one day he figures out how to arise a butterfly and daze the world? Take that you haters!

However, for the greater part of us, our transformations are a little less dramatic. These life transformations are what we call — self development.

That awkward inclination you get when the life (or business) you've so carefully made for yourself begins to feel… not exactly right.

From the start, it resembles a tingle you can't exactly scratch — it’s irritating, vague, won't-disappear from your conscious mind and you don’t know what to DO. Then that same feeling gets stronger and louder; that now you have to DO SOMETHING about it.

So you start to ponder on life. The habits you’ve accustomed to. At times even asking yourself, Is it possible for me to do all of this another way? opens up an entire universe of potential outcomes.

You come to the realization that you’ve gotten too comfortable, life was passing you by and got messy fast. This causes you to tumble down and hide in a deep dark hole full of regrets. Then as you start minimizing inessentials, maximizing things that bring joy in your life and arranging how you want your future to be. You begin to play with the possibilities and recapture your purpose in life once again.

You reach the alarming conclusion that you are unquestionably in more control of your life (and your business) than what you could’ve ever imagined.

Here’s a guide of 11 ways you can get back on track:

1. Get the simple things right.

To be successful, your attention to detail must be unwavering. So you start with the little things, like making your bed and cleaning the house. If simple tasks like these cannot be completed, not only do you pay the price for it when you get home from work tired, but also shows your diligence for the harder tasks. 

The lesson: If you can't get the simple things right, you can't expect to successfully tackle more daunting tasks.

2. Set both realistic and unrealistic goals.

Successful people are relentless goal setters. They break down larger milestones into smaller, more achievable tasks. For example, one of the most unrealistic goals a SEAL candidate can set is completing Hell Week. You don't sleep for a week. You run countless miles with boats, logs, and backpacks. You swim dozens of miles in the frigid ocean. You run the obstacle course daily and do more pushups and pull-ups than you can count. All while battling second-stage hypothermia, sores, and often fractures. Some students quit just minutes into Hell Week. You can't allow yourself to imagine what the end will look like. So you make--and achieve--one small goal at a time and pray for the sun to come up the next day. 

The lesson: A series of near-term realistic goals will help you get closer to your big audacious ones.

3. Work hard.

This one seems obvious, but many people underestimate the level of effort it takes to be successful and achieve aggressive goals. It astonishes me that some people show up to life changing goals and put no real time or effort into preparation. 

The lesson: If you don't work hard preparing for potential success, you won't change that behavior when things get really tough.

4. Get others to work with you.

When setting goals and pursuing success, you must sometimes lead and get others to work with you. You can't do it all alone. The minute you realize that you don’t know everything and need help along the way, the better off you will be.

5. Don't make excuses.

Successful people don't make excuses for failure or shortcomings. They acknowledge their strengths and weaknesses and seek feedback from trusted advisers. The longer you sit around making excuses, the further you will drift from the possibility of achieving your goals.

6. Don't underestimate others.

Pick a handful of random people, with overly confident and timid personalities —  place them in a daunting situation. Usually the overly confident are the first to go. Underestimating people, whether peers or competitors, is one of the worst things you can do. People who go far in life measure others by qualities such as integrity and strength of heart. Empower those around you, and you will be surprised by the outcome.

7. Be willing to fail.

When entering this phase of my life the odds are not in your favor. If you don’t try, you would never forgive yourself. You would rather try and fail than be the individual who says, "I was thinking about trying that." You simply can't look at life through a lens of fear. If you take a calculated risk and fail, at the very least you have a valuable learning experience. Get back up. Dust off. And never, ever, be out of the fight.

8. Embrace the repercussions of your actions.

On your path to success, you will make mistakes. Learn from your mistakes and turn the consequences into something positive.

9. Don't back down.

My favorite passage used by Navy SEALS reads: "I will never quit. I persevere and thrive on adversity. My Nation expects me to be physically harder and mentally stronger than my enemies. If knocked down, I will get back up, every time. I will draw on every remaining ounce of strength to protect my teammates and to accomplish our mission. I am never out of the fight." Enough said.

10. Laugh when you want to cry.

Staying positive seems like an obvious trait for successful people, but it's easier said than done. Your character is defined by what you do when things get tough. The person who finds the strength to laugh during a complicated situation is the type that usually takes control of any challenge no matter the sacrifice. When things get rough and are out of your control, don't forget to laugh.

11. Make sacrifices.

Success comes with sacrifice. Let selfish ways fall by the wayside, and know that you can't have your cake and eat it, too. The most successful people in the world have made significant sacrifices along the way. Give up comfort, and the discomfort only increases the further you go. But you get used to it, because you know what you are doing is worth it.

The path to success is paved with seemingly insurmountable obstacles, but you can't lose heart. Stay strong, be humble, and lean on others for support when necessary.

[deadlifts-and-derrida]

Learning to Grow

There's a scene in the 90's animated Spider-Man where Eddie Brock, the human host of the Venom symbiote, is lifting weights in his run-down New York apartment. He's shirtless, bench pressing what looks like an impressive weight. The camera runs over his arms and torso as he recites, between grunts, a litany of wrongs, imagined and real, that Spider-Man has visited upon him. There are brief flashbacks with each item on the list, played out semi-opaque in front of his sweaty muscular torso. As each one fades and we see him clear, his muscles appear to pulse and swell. He's getting bigger and bigger as the scene goes on, muscles engorging with each repetition, each up and down of the loaded bar he's bench-pressing.

This scene captivated me as a child. Any time this episode came up in re-runs I'd be glued to the TV, would find some excuse to go into another room and sneakily turn on a separate television, away from my family, even if it meant watching it on a smaller, less modern set.

I knew I loved muscle before I saw this scene. I even doubt this was the first time I saw a depiction of where muscles came from. This first aired in 1994. I would have been 11. Surely I knew muscles came from working out before I saw this. But it felt like some previously unconnected parts of my brain were suddenly wired together.

If you want to have muscles you have to lift weights!

*

My mom had two blue dumbbells at home. I think she bought them to use at the Step Aerobics class she went to every Thursday night in the gymnasium of the local elementary school, the same school I attended. They were 5 lbs each. I'm sure they would look small to me now. They looked big to me then.

They came with a folded up paper diagram of exercises you could do with the dumbbells. It featured a line drawing of an absurdly muscular man (these are FIVE POUND DUMBBELLS and he looks like a professional bodybuilder!), shirtless, wearing a pair of short shorts. Of course I was attracted to this line drawing. But I remember taking these little blue dumbbells and trying to use them to get bigger and stronger. I tried to use the piano bench to do chest flies. I did lots of bicep curls. I don't think I ever did anything for my back and my legs - classic clueless young man, only exercising the muscles he can see, the ones that look good in a t-shirt.

I didn't go about this in any regimented fashion. They were sporadic attempts. I didn't yet realize how frequently you had to work out to see results. I didn't realize how to organize a weightlifting session at the gym, how to program it to achieve hypertrophy (or, in lay terms, bigger muscles). I thought of it like it was a role-playing game, like if you lifted weights you'd add a little EXP to your STR bar, and eventually it'd level up even if you weren't systematic about it.

So of course I don't think mom's two blue 5 lbs dumbbells did much for me.

*

There was no commercial or public gym in my hometown, nor one within a 100 km drive. There were some private gyms, in people's basements and such. My little hometown, which had about 5,000 people living in it when I was in my early teens, somehow produced four provincial bodybuilding champions to my knowledge, including Newfoundland's only internationally successful professional bodybuilder to date. Fewer than 1% of the province's population. We certainly over-performed in this aspect.

And then there was me. Absolutely nothing to look at. But burning with a desire that I felt ashamed of, felt like I should keep it hidden. Bodybuilding was all around me and I didn't say anything, didn't give any indication that it interested me. Two of those four provincial champions were my next-door neighbours, one of them a year older than me, one of them a year younger than me. It never occured to me to even try to train with them.

I was an awkward nerd. I knew I was gay. I hadn't told anyone. But bullies called me every word you can call a gay kid, because, well, they were bullies.

So I didn't connect with the budding bodybuilders around me. I never lifted in one of the basements where so many successful bodybuilding careers began.

I did pushups sporadically in my bedroom and hoped it would be enough.

Of course it wasn't. Forcing the body to build more metabolically expensive muscle tissue than it absolutely needs is one of the most difficult things to do. A few pushups in your bedroom and a protein-poor diet (I was vegetarian but I wasn't one of the "good kind" who research proper diet) won't cut it.

*

In my second term at University, the Field House opened. This was a new athletic facility. There was some controversy in student circles that we were all being levied a $40/semester fee to pay for the Field House - but in return, we all had access to the facility. We just had to show our student card.

Stress, bad eating, and a post-exam bout of mononucleosis had left me about 145 lbs at this point. I'm 6' tall. There was no muscle on me to speak of - though skinny, I had no abs, no definition in my arms and legs. My arms measured 10" around.

So, although all my leftist friends were angry about the Field House levy, I was secretly happy about it. Finally, I had access to a gym.

I didn't research what to do. I didn't ask for help in making a plan.

For weeks, I went in and ran on the treadmill.

I remember an article by another gay writer about body image, muscles, and exercise. He describes running on the treadmill while dreaming of himself as finally having that muscular body he's long wanted to have.

Now, I want to give the guy a shake and ask him what the hell he's doing on a treadmill if he wants muscles. That's like practicing piano and hoping it'll make you a better cook. But back then - I was that guy.

*

There was a little alcove in the Field House next to the cardio room that had some air-powered resistance machines. I started to use those. I doubt I used them well. No one taught me form. I didn't look it up. This was 2002 - YouTube, a great resource for this kind of thing, was years away.

But it was better than nothing. My diet, still appalling and low in protein, did get a little better as my palate expanded and I learned, on a semester in England in 2003, that I liked and could prepare chicken and fish.

My arms were 12" around. This is still small. It's nowhere near Eddie Brock. But it's better than 10".

*

I was like a timid deer slowly being tamed. Toward the end of my undergraduate degree, I began going to the Strength and Conditioning Centre, in the basement of the old Phys Ed building, where the actual lifters and bodybuilders on campus went.

But I was not yet either of those things.

I was still ashamed of my desires, couldn't bring myself to ask anyone for help, to acquire the practical knowledge I needed if I was ever going to achieve the kind of progress I wanted.

So even though there was a freeweight section full of huge burly men lifting impressive weights, I kept to the machines and the dumbbells. Lateral raises (probably done badly), cable flies (probably done badly), tricep pushdowns (probably done badly), dips and pullups (almost certainly done badly), lat pulldowns (I only ever felt these in my forearms). I never did a bench press. I never did a squat. I don't think I even knew what a deadlift was.

I ate like I was lifting big weights and having gruelling workouts, though. So, in other words, I got chubby and my muscles more or less stayed the same, after those newbie gains earned in the alcove of the Field House with the air-powered machines. I did not look like I lifted weights. I certainly didn't look like a bodybuilder.

*

My mid and late 20s were full of periods where I had no gym access. I ran during those times, every second day. I got fitter, my body firmed up, I felt better. I was also physically suited to middle distance running. But I was smaller, during those times, and I wanted to be bigger.

When I did have gym access I continued to lift poorly, without doing any compound movements (bench, squat, deadlift, overhead press, etc). And I ate to grow, but it was a lot of low quality food. So, during those times, my body got softer. I told myself I was bulking, but my muscles didn't get bigger. My arms were still about 12" or 13", depending on which of these two modes I was existing in.

I still lived in dread of someone discovering how much I wanted to be a huge muscular freak. How I fed my imagination on a steady diet of enormous bodybuilders, folders with thousands of jpgs saved from the internet, treasured memories of the rare times I'd seen a truly huge muscular man out in the wild, in person. Walking in the mall, lying on a blanket in the park, in the checkout line at the supermarket.

I would sometimes fantasize about finding some almost empty bottle of steroids in the locker room. Maybe just one or two pills left. At the time I erroneously thought all steroids were pills - I didn't know anything about steroids at all, at this point. I just knew they made guys big. In this fantasy, I would take the one or two pills I found, and it would make me slightly more muscular than I was. Perhaps 5% more. And that would be enough to make me happy without anyone realizing anything. Of course, it doesn't work that way.

*

I wasn't entirely clueless. In 2009, I started a PhD at the University of Toronto, and had access to its excellent gym facilities. By then I knew I had to do compound movements like bench press and squat. I started to learn how. I didn't seek out help, though, and I definitely should have. Also, a PhD is very demanding on your time. I was following a "split" (how you organize your workouts through the week) appropriate for someone lifting 4-5 times a week, but I was lucky if I got in 2 or 3 times (which, frankly, isn't enough to see much progress regardless of your "split"). 10 or 12 days would go by between chest workouts, between back workouts, between leg workouts.

I suppose I made some progress. Not much. I may have deluded myself into thinking it was more than it was, because I had been going to the gym, in some capacity, for 7 years, and I wanted to have something to show for it.

In early 2012, me and my then-boyfriend drove to his father's in South Carolina. I had just turned 29. I was planning on using the fact we were traveling to buy steroids online. I was paranoid that my IP address could be tracked if I did it at home and it would be safer to do it from some hotel room in Pennsylvania.

I realized, when in a hotel room in Pennsylvania trying to buy steroids online, that I didn't know enough about any of that to actually go through with it. I hadn't done my research. Looking back, my naivete is laughable. Now, if I encountered someone like the person I used to be trying to buy steroids, I would try my best to discourage them for a large number of reasons. One, you, past Michael, clearly don't know how to train and eat to grow; that being the case, all steroids will do is upset your endocrine system's natural balance and increase some health risks without actually giving you the benefits you want. Secondly, you don't know a thing about them. What kind are you going to buy? The answer better be testosterone enanthate or testosterone cypionate; test only for a beginner's cycle. Do you know proper injection technique? Don't even think about an oral-only cycle! Do you know what an AI is? It's an aromatase inhibitor, a drug that prevents most of the negative side effects people associate with steroid use, which ironically come from elevated estrogen, a side effect of elevated tesoterone - you did know that, didn't you? Do you know what PCT is? It's Post Cycle Therapy, drugs people take once they have finished their cycle of steroids to help restart their body's natural hormone production, which is disrupted by steroids. You knew steroids would shut down your natural testosterone production, right?

Luckily, I realized I wasn't ready, and didn't go through with my plan. I don't know what I was thinking. I mean, did I think I could just type "buy steroids" into google? OK, yes, you can actually do that, but it's not a good idea. There are plenty of people out there willing to make a quick buck selling snake oil to idiots like me, and even if they sold me legitimate gear, I wasn't ready for it and had no idea how to use it safely and responsibly, as outlined above.

*

In January of 2013, my parents, always solidly middle class, suddenly became very wealthy, and they passed some of this on to me. I had never made more than $25,000 in a year, and suddenly twice that was sitting in my bank account, with more to come.

One of the things I splurged on was a DEXA scan. It cost $125. You lay still on the bed of a device, and a mechanical arm slowly passes over your whole body twice. It takes about ten minutes. it is the most accurate body composition scan currently available.

I wanted to know how well my efforts in the gym had paid off.

Not at all, it turned out.

I was 184 lbs. This was in the "normal" BMI range for someone 6' tall. But I was 25.1% bodyfat. For a man, obesity is considered anything over 25%. I was the opposite of a bodybuilder. Bodybuilders have obese BMI but very low bodyfat percentages. I had normal BMI but an obese bodyfat percentage.

My lean body mass was only 138 lbs. If I was lean like a bodybuilder, I wouldn't even weigh 150 lbs. I had been going to the gym for 11 years and I had almost nothing to show for it - maybe 10 or 15 lbs of muscle gained from the underfed just-over-a-bout-of-mono 19 year old who first stepped into a gym in 2002.

This was a kick in the pants. Luckily it motivated me. I reformed my diet. No more pizza and burritos except as very occasional treats. Cut way way way back on the booze. Running in the morning every second day, lifting weights every day I didn't run.

I got married in June. I weighed 170 lbs and my bodyfat was down to 19%. I was losing fat without losing muscle, possibly because there was very little muscle to lose.

We went on an extended summer wedding tour, had wedding parties on both coasts. I relaxed a little but didn't give up fully.

And that September, enabled by having some money, emboldened by finally achieving a little success, spurred on by turning 30 and realizing that if I didn't start to do this right then my dream of being a bodybuilder would never come to pass, I hired a trainer.

And on our first meeting, I told him: I want to get as big as I possibly can.

And he said let's get to work.

[lukemo10]

27 Life-Changing Micro Habits That Require Only A Few Minutes

When people strive for self-improvement, a common mistake is to shoot too high. We make promises to be healthier, more mindful, more patient. But such lofty goals often go unmet. They’re just too vague, or too hard to track. (There’s a reason why 80 percent of New Year’s Resolutions are cast aside by February.) Even when a goal is more concrete (“I want to run a half marathon”; “I want to yell less”) it’s difficult to stay the course, especially when you have kids, because time is tight, progress requires consistency, and it feels unnatural to break tasks into very small chunks.

A different approach? Start smaller — much smaller — and instead strive to develop micro habits. Micro habits are simple daily actions that are easy to implement into your established routine and only require a few minutes of your time (if that). Drinking a cup of water in the morning before your coffee so you stay hydrated. Performing a minute of breathing exercises to help manage anger. Reading just one paragraph of a book that seems daunting.

While they sound insignificant, micro habits are much more achievable than traditional goals and resolutions — and often contain aspects of them broken down into smaller chunks. And, because stacking up small victories creates a snowball effect that encourages you to undertake more, and more ambitious, changes, micro habits may be more likely to lead to lasting change.

“When high achieving people set goals, they set big goals,” says Sabina Nawaz, a corporate coach who often advises the power of micro-habits in her practice. “There's a lot of bravado, with people saying they should ‘go big or go home.’ The problem with setting big goals in the near term is that we are less likely to achieve them.”

The best micro habits require no more than two or three minutes and fit easily into your existing schedule. They can also be piggybacked off other tasks you already do — say, performing a wall squat while you brush your teeth, or writing down one thing you’re grateful for while you wait for the coffee to brew. In time, these become part of your routine and can be lengthened out or made more difficult.

Now, thinking small can be a challenge. Nawaz says that her clients often have trouble setting goals that are small enough to become micro-habits. Someone might see a person working out 30 minutes a day and want to jump right into that level of performance.

“What we don't realize is that for them to get to 30 minutes a day, they had to start somewhere,” she says. “And it wasn't 30 minutes a day for most people.”

Micro habits are much more manageable. Who doesn’t have time to do just one pushup a day? Or two minutes of jumping jacks?

Below, according to a variety of wellness experts, life coaches, and medical professionals are 27 suggestions of small but significant life changes you can put in motion today.

Original Article Link to read more

[random-drunk]

Amphisbaena.

old novahd monster

A NovaHD monster I was trying to go back to, finally did and made MAJOR adjustments. They used to be attached to each other’s sides and was just a really humanized monster.(I have a friend that is big on conjoined/fused characters, told me the new monster is in the Queen/King formation :0 fancy!)But it still starts at a science facility with the same goal. However, the story is drastically different, I’m trying to make a video, but it might just turn into a comic later. Not sure if I’ll do anything at the end. Just in case I don’t, I’ll write out the story below. It’s long! I’m sorry for any grammatical errors. This is part of a bigger story, I just like to put a twist on characters, my OCs, popular fictional characters (that I also like), and irl people.

Quick note: You can draw the old or new design, but tag me so I can see it! I LOVE SEEING ART!!!

Somewhere in the US rests a science facility named, “Vita Brevis.” Out to make a human’s lifespan longer so we discover more and no relying on offspring to take on our studies. Out for this goal, even if it’s taking so far 50 years.

Tried advanced medicine that either resulting in the subject’s downward spiral of insanity or suicide. Tried diets and life routines that proved to be far from useful. Tried to fuse animals with humans, some died within months and others were a few years. They tried everything they had on their minds, but not fusing two people together.

Some scientists found it a silly idea, other found it borderline retarded. Two lives fused together doesn’t equal to a twice long lifespan, one would repeatedly state. To those that doubted, had no chance against the willing and desperate. So the project went underway.

Two young men were picked for the project.

James Wilson was in jail for a hit and run murder, ending serval lives and injuring a few more. The hit and run seemed to be done on purpose, the people involved seemed to have no relations with James prior the accident. Motives are still unclear.

Aleks Merchant was caught smuggling drugs overseas. He denied it all and said he was set up. All fingers were pointed at him and nothing to back him up. He was tested for using drugs, was under the influence of crack. He came alone but says someone was there, they just missed them. Either they did escape or he’s hallucinating, He was of course put in jail either way.

Vita Brevis contacted the prison and requested a certain amount of prisoners, regardless what they were in for. So Aleks and James were picked for the group, how unlucky.

Once in operation, Aleks and James saw each other, was told to say hi and then count backward from ten. Said small greetings and started to count after getting air masks, getting tired past five. The sleep was like heaven. Felt like nothing was there and just a release of pain and worry. They wished this is what death felt like. They had to wake up to something worse than death.

They woke up in bed, couldn’t feel their legs. They looked down, which happened to look at each other. Sewn together by the waist, stitches still visible. They screaming loud and bloody. Their hands took action before they could think, ripping the stitches and feeling each other’s warm blood cuddle their skin. Organs falling as the blood was seeping out more. A doctor heard their screams and came in just in time to save their lives. 

Worse than death.

When stitched back up, they were put to sleep for a longer time to heal. The two skins forming as one. Now stuck forever.

When awake, they were feed and bathe in warm water. They took small pleasures of watching TV and browsing the internet, of course fighting here and there.

In a few months, Aleks and James had trouble eating. Aleks would regurgitate the food and James would choke on food like if it was powdered cinnamon. James was given wet foods and was fine, but Aleks just kept puking it make up, more painful each time. Feed through a tube, it got down for a moment before it was shot back up through the tube. The force surprised scientists but didn’t at all classify as a breakthrough of anything. So they stop providing food for Aleks, but James seemed to have a bigger appetite since after Aleks’ cut off. So they did and it was much better.

However, one night, the boys were visited by a big shadow of fabric and bones, looking cold. A smaller and more flesh filled figure stepped forward. He spoke, “I see Poppy is still trying to push the monster agenda after my visit. It’s almost flattering... It’s my job, however.” He stepped closer and caressed Aleks’ face. “Don’t worry, Simon is here, I’m here... And you will do everything I say.” He leaned in and whispered into Aleks’ ear, then repeating the same words to James. He stood up and chuckled to show his joy. “Make me proud, Amphis.” The tall figure swung his wings and disappeared with the smaller figure, Simon.

Doing with what they’re told, when the nurses and doctors came in at breakfast with the food, Aleks quickly spit into the bowl of oatmeal. Everyone gasped and was grossed out, but saw the spit was a little orange and gave out a sizzle. James reached for the bowl, begging. The doctors hesitated but gave the bowl. James ate it, surprisingly no gaging and no gross facial expressions, he even seemed surprised. 

After some months, the scientists finally gave hard and dry foods, the two boys able to eat them all. They then started to do physical exercises like pushups, handstands, neutral “standing” form, pull-ups, so forth. They only got stronger from that point, but a lot of things started to happen. Aleks’ teeth were falling out and his tongue was sticking out more, after farther expectation, his tongue grew and only got bigger. James’ teeth got far sharper and seemed to get a few more extra teeth in the back. Their pupils got bigger and as time went on, the pupils covered their entire eyes, making them unable to come out under light. Aleks’ spit/vomit was now bright orange and is extremely toxic, but harmless to themselves. The scientists had to learn the hard way that the acidic saliva was still on the skin of the subjects, making them protected from harm. Their ears got more of a point, but that was the least threatening thing on the list.

Things did take a turn.

One exercise had basketball as the activity. James was on top and catching the ball and tossing it into the hoop. Repeating this a few more times before the boys switch. James leaned back to have his hands meet with the ground, flipping Aleks up. They turn around and meet eyes with the doctor. Aleks caught the ball and tossed it through the hoop, nothing new. When he was on his last toss, the boys staggered over to the hoop, a little uneasy. Aleks quickly grabs hold to the basketball hoop’s net to catch his breath and James to get his strength back. The doctor patiently waited. James picked them up again and Aleks seemed less dizzy judged by his expression. He didn’t let go of the net though and just stared into space.

The doctor spoke, “Hello? Are you alright..? Better come down so you can rest.”

Aleks didn’t move. Aleks did start to cough, having sharp bubbling sounds form in his throat. The doctor tried to talk Aleks to coming back down. Aleks still hasn’t moved. The doctored tried but sighed and pulled out a taser gun, firming and loudly speaking from this point.

“Get down.”

James’ eyes darted to the gun and got his lungs and heart doing overtime. Aleks felt his heart and lungs fasten and spotted the threat. His lungs and heart copied the same speed as James, if not, faster.

“Get down, or else.”

Screaming and alarms went off. Quick loud, “help me!’ filled the room. Outside doctors peered in and saw the scene. The doctor was hushed by Aleks’ overgrown tongue being forced down his throat, stretching his neck beyond the limit until life escaped from his body with a few painful cracks. The scientists kept watching, seeing Aleks then regurgitating into his mouth and throat, disgusting him from the inside out. James then stepped in and started to pick flesh out and eating him, tasting better than the food they served. Almost tasting like heaven. 

“We must stop this! This is getting out of hand!” One scientist shouted.

“No! We can fix this! Keep them alive!” Another shouted.

“Dr. Grise!” The first one shouted at the second one. “We were meant to expand our lifespan, not destroy it with whatever this is!” The turned back to the monster and found the dead doctor already half eaten. “Enough!” The doctor slammed a button, but nothing happened.

A small chuckle filled the building. Something pulled back like wings and revealed the small figure named Simon. Smaller than a human, one big singular eye, green iris. He seemed happy. 

“Thank you for the apology gift, Poppy,” Simon said as his tall figure friend lowered his wing so Aleks and James can climb on. Simon’s eyes got thin, either smirking or angry. “You’re still a bitch, though.” They all disappeared, leaving the half-eaten and acid burned doctor all alone to be cleaned up. 

Worse than death.

[sunilb9119]

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[howardlinkedin]

Debriefing (And Other Bad Jokes) Part 3

Part 2 here: X Summary: Things get serious except not since Tyki Mikk is now involved and Kanda breaks a chair. Meanwhile, Link struggles coming to terms that everyone he works with is attractive. 

The basement of the Black Order Police Department houses a gym, for the long nights of work, giving reprieve for the mind from homicide cases and missing persons reports.

Often, Lenalee could be found tearing up the treadmill or destroying yet another punching bag. Link had been given a perfect view of a hundred pound leather bag of cushion be ripped off its chain from the ceiling and burst at the seams the instance it hit the padded floor one evening, and it part frightened him and part aroused him.

The second half of that particular section in his lizard brain was vehemently beat down and shoved into a dark void Link managed to conjure up in his mind.

He was excellent at compartmentalizing.

“Oh, hello detective!” Miss Lee greeted, not at all out of breath as she lifted a new bag to replace the one she just decimated. “Do you need a sparring partner?”

---

Lenalee Lee, for all her loveliness and grace, was a real powerhouse compacted in a five-foot-eight, 140 pound body.

After Link became fast friends with the gym floor for the sixth time, countering the two he managed to deal her, the detective decided it was time to cede.

From the sidelines, Miranda applauded them both.

Laughing, the female officer handed the blonde a water. “Thanks Link! Who knew a stuffy guy like you had it in him?”

Link couldn’t tell if he was being insulted or complimented, but took the water anyway with gratitude.

On the opposite end of the gym, Walker was doing handstand pushups with just one arm, like the show off he was. Kanda thought it was a good opportunity to kick the arm out from under his partner.

The sparring match that ensued was really just a flurry of white and black, and Lenalee snorted while ushering out the medic and detective. “Let’s go before they start making out.”

“That is unprofessional.” Link looked cross, and was about to make himself stay and monitor the two.

“Listen.” The female officer looked the blonde detective in the eyes. “Either you ignore them or Allen will try and convince you to join them, OR Kanda will break both of your legs.”

---

Link wisely left, if only because he was conflicted and didn’t know which option sounded most appealing to him.

Once again, into the naughty thought box these feelings went.

---

Exactly one day after the bloodied wall and discovering that Walker had a stalker (and that he and Officer Kanda have more meaning behind the wrestling they do on the floor), Allen says:

“Arrest me officer.”

On reflex, Kanda snaps handcuffs on the other man and starts to drag him to the cells.

“No, no, you have to take me to the actual prison Bakanda.” Allen had the audacity to sound vexed that his partner didn’t follow his train of thought.

Lenalee was the one to often remind him that no one understands his thoughts, regardless of years acquainted, because his brain was a barrage of cats chasing after the same laser light.

Except, sometimes Kanda could comprehend Allen’s thought processes, when given the right cues.

Which leads the officer to turn into rage personified and snap a very pointed “NO.” in his partner’s face.  

Allen sighs and shrugs. “Well alright.”

Two seconds of silence.

“If you won’t come with me I’ll just take Link.”

With a click, the handcuffs fell to the ground, and Allen is out of the door with a very startled detective dragged behind him.

Kanda is left seething, glaring at the door.

---

This is how Howard Link found himself in the center of the Maximum Security Penitentiary’s recreation room, surrounded by people who have earned their occupancy, shadowing Officer Allen Walker.   

“Where’s your usual guard dog at Walker?” The one Link began to call Fellon 1 in his mind, asked.

“Yeah! Ain’t you always followed by that angry lookin’ guy?” Fellon 2 quips, looking Link up from head to toe. “This one’s just as nice to look at though.”

The blonde’s eyebrow twitched.

With a snap of his fingers, Allen redirects the group’s attention, expression serious. “Alright eyes over here.”

He slaps a hand of cards on the table.

“Full House!”

Everyone in the room groans, couple kick chairs over.

“Damnit Walker!”

Of course, Allen Walker is playing poker with criminals. Of course he is.

How the officer even gained easy access to the prison was beyond Link, seeing as it took months of paperwork to gain clearance. But nope. Not Allen Walker, manipulative, sunshine boy of the Black Order.

All the security had done was take one look at the white haired officer’s smiling face, and all entrances were open.

“Walker.” The detective hissed, side eyeing everyone else in the room. “This is not necessary! You’re overstepping your bounds enough as it is, if you don’t leave this instance, I’ll have to personally report you to the board!”

All parties in the recc room gave Link a blank (and somewhat crazed) stare.

White brows raised, Allen huffs. “Link it’s fine, these are my friends.”

“What?!”

All felons present erupted with laughter, because apparently Link was in an alternate universe, and he was actually the one not making sense.

The door slides open, and clad in awful prison orange, ankle chains and handcuffs, a scruffy man with a nest of hair and cracked glasses was escorted in.

Silence.

Allen twiddled his fingers at the newcomer. “Tyki, I love the,” He motioned with his entire hand. “Whole hobo rat aesthetic you’ve got going on.”

Turning on his heel, the man exits the room, only to return minutes later looking like a completely different person.

His hair was slicked back, revealing a crown of thorny symbols tattooed across his brow, glasses gone. He even popped his collar on his ugly orange jumpsuit, which Link thought was pointless.

The ink across his forehead labeled him unmistakingly Noah.

“Boy! Long time no see! Where’s your handsome hellhound at?”

Tyki Mikk managed to make walking in chains look languid as he shooed Fellon 1 from his seat and took the spot for himself.

The detective was really getting tired of being compared to Yuu Kanda, who apparently rarely left his partner’s side if even criminals took notice.

Allen began to collect and reshuffle his cards. “It’s hardly been a month Tyki.”

“Yes, but a lonely month without you here to brighten my dim days.” The literal murderer purred, accepting his cards. 

“No.”

Both men blinked and turned to look questioningly at the detective. He looked down right aghast.

“YOU.” Link points directly at Allen nose.

It scrunched.

“Are NOT going to play POKER with a Noah, and FLIRT with him!”

Allen sets down a three of spades in response. “Yes I am.”

Tyki began to howl with laughter.

---

For all their bickering, both Kanda and Walker made an excellent team.

And this was not just because they sometimes make out heavily on desks or hold hands at dinner.

Well, Allen holds Kanda’s hand while Kanda frowns A Lot at his fork like the awkward duck he was.

But as the smaller officer would say, details.

This exceptional teamwork allowed them to work in tandem through various plans, without needing to breathe an actual word to the other about said plan.

Which was why, even though Officer Yuu Kanda would rather be holding his sword to a certain Noah’s throat,  he also needed the detective out and his busybody ass away.

And Allen knew this. Thus, the grand display to drag Howard Link with him to crusade the Maximum Security Prison, and allow his partner to do what he felt needed to be done.

Which right now was lock himself and Lavi in the Profiler’s office like a creepy creeper.

“Now Yuu,” Lavi admonished, “I respect Allen too much to have an affair.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Kanda decided slicing Lavi’s chair in half would be a good stress relief.

The redhead looks balefully at the slaughtered seat. “Feel better?” “No.”

Bookman hummed and opted to sit on his desk. “Is this about our new detective?”

“I hate him, and I know you can give me actual reasons why.” Kanda rarely ever needed an excuse to hate someone. It’s usually his default reaction to new people, until they move mountains to prove to his judgmental and distrustful ego that they are not, in fact, agents of Satan. 

Which makes many wonder how exactly Allen Walker managed to worm his way into the angry man’s prickly heart.

But Howard Link? He arrived too soon to replace an incompetent detective, directly after too suspicious and fresh circumstances.

---

Lavi Bookman, mischievous, freckled man known by most for his constant jokes and upbeat persona.

Red hair in a constant state of windswept, with one eye hidden behind a patch after an unfortunate encounter, and the other a happy green.

Though, if one really took their chance to know him, they would soon find out that Lavi was also a satellite of surveillance. Every inch moved, every breath taken, Bookman could categorize someone’s every nuance and motivation with just a glance.

He wasn’t a Profiler for nothing.

It was thanks to him, that the PD was able to compile Tyki Mikk’s exact mental profile, right down for his need to become emotionally attached to his victims into order to kill them. Lavi never even saw the man, until the night of his arrest. 

  The moment Howard Link entered his line of vision, Bookman saw everything.

Which served frustrating, given the fact that Lavi was also a secretive bastard, and hardly ever shared his knowledge unless when on a case.

Kanda was frustrated he even had to ask.

---

A solid hour escaped them as Tyki and Allen tossed words and cards like ping pong across the table.

At one point, the Noah had tried to glide his foot up Allen’s leg, only for the officer to stomp it into submission.

Quite brutally.

For all of Allen’s honeyed words and inviting eyes, he had a very strict No Touching Allowed policy with condemned criminals. At this, Link’s mind rested just a millisecond.

Allen set down his cards. “Four of a kind!”

The Noah gaped and slammed his hands on the table. “STOP BEING A CHEAT!” he accused.

The officer took on an innocent expression. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, everything I do is fair and square.”

Letting out a frustrated, gravelly sound in the back of his throat, Mikk slouched elegantly in his chair.

On this day in history, Howard Link witnessed a decorated officer of the Order make nice with hardened criminals, play a card game with a Noah and watch said Noah pout like a child.

What was Link’s life, honestly?

“So,” After getting over his small fit at losing, Tyki stared intently at the officer. “What can I do you for? I doubt you came all this way to just humiliate me at cards.”

Wordlessly, Allen tossed a manilla file on the table, along with a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Link glared at the white haired man, because where and when did he even get that information?

“Walker.” his voice warned.

At the sight of nicotine and fire, the Noah’s copper eyes light up. “Always so thoughtful, this is why I love you.”

At the admission, the detective felt his jaw crack, due to how hard he had just snapped his teeth.

Allen merely sighed out his nose and rolled his eyes.

Wasting no time opening the packet and lighting a stick, the Noah flipped open the obvious very classified file, filled with very sensitive information. “What bedtime story do you have for me here-oh GROSS!”

Tyki took on a very offended expression, sticking his tongue out in disgust. “Who the hell IS COPYING me? What the FUCK? THIS IS HORRIBLE.”

Stealing hearts, literally, was HIS modus operandi!

Before the Noah could get further outraged, and beyond reasonable, Allen reached over and

Poked his nuckle.

Tyki Mikk stared at the lone finger for a good three seconds before attempting to grab at the whole hand entirely. Allen moved it away out of his reach, looking as unimpressed as can be.

It should also be known that listed in Mikk’s file, the man was known to be obnoxiously tactile, needy, and prone to fixate on things he felt he couldn’t have.

As Tyki made grabby hands, Allen asked. “Do you know of anyone willing to go this far in copying you?”

“No.” The Noah had resorted to laying half of his body on the table in a sulk when he realized that he would not be getting to hold hands with the pretty police man.

Tyki’s life was frustrating like that.

“Sheryl might know though. The bastard knows everything that goes on when it involves death and destruction.”

Allen groaned, “I can’t stand Sheryl.”

“Join the club, Boy.” Mikk, still sulking, resumed flipping through the file. “OH DAMN.” He bolted up, eyes filled with glee.

“Whoever this jackass is, they sure take good photos.” The Noah, much to Link’s horror, spread all of Allen images on the table and began to pet them. “Damn, you look fine in these.”

“I know.” The officer was smug.

“I’m keeping these.”

“No.”

---

After Allen most likely fractured the Noah’s hands with a deck of cards for the file (and photos), the very frustrated detective and overly calm officer made their leave.

“Just be careful Boy.” Tyki warned. “Whoever did this, took a lot of effort to make this message for you. Someone wants your attention.”

An ominous promise, if Link have ever heard one.

---

Back at the Department, Kanda all but dragged his partner away where no one saw hide or hair of either officer for the rest of the evening.

At his desk, Link felt the hairs on his neck stand on end.

Someone had been through his things.

It was minute, subtle. But Link was a detective, and the little misalignment of his pens and computer items sent warnings behind his eyes.

After thoroughly combing over all of the drawers, it seemed as though no one has taken anything. In fact, despite the slight misplacement of everything, none of Link’s belongings were missing.

There was a clap on his back, causing him to jump.

“HA! How was your first ride with Allen?” It was the Bookman, eye twinkling. “You look a little frazzled, my guy.”

“It was...interesting.” The blonde cleared his throat. “I am in decent order mentally and physically, there is no need to comment.”  

Lavi blew a rather loud, and unneeded,  raspberry in Link’s face. “Yeah, whatever Mister Short Stack McTough Guy.”

“What?”

---

That night, Link also discovered that someone had ransacked his home.

Walker’s file was missing.

[rolypolywl]

Welcome to day 26!

Today is weigh in day:

And 273.4 is not ideal.

It is also the first of the month, which means time for measurements!

These are a little inconsistent, which I think is down to our measuring technique, but I think the neck and waist are most accurate, and they are both coming down, so I’m happy!

Now, on to the workout!

Today is a bit different, as you might notice, because we are outside! And that is because we’re talking about trampoline exercises today, and that’s where mine lives!

Now, there are two parts to this: big trampolines like this, and little ones, also called rebounders, like this!

So, Time published an article, talking about a study performed by the American Exercise Council. And this is what they found. “Trampolining was found to be moderate-to-vigorous intensity exercise: with about the same physical effects as running six miles per hour, biking, or playing football, basketball or ultimate Frisbee. Yet when people were asked to rate how exerted they felt, they gave scores more consistent with light-to-moderate intensity—suggesting that the workout felt easier than it should have.”

So it feels easier to do, compared to how much of a workout you get, which is great!

So I’ll start with the little rebounder.

Now, to note, a rebounder is actually low impact!

Livestrong explains this, though it seems kind of counter-intuitive. “Jumping on a mini-trampoline may appear to be high-impact, but is considered to be low-impact plyometrics. As long as your knee problems are not debilitating, jumping on a mini trampoline is a suitable exercise for someone with bad knees.”

If you want to get technical, they elaborate a bit, “Compared to a regulation-size trampoline, a mini trampoline reduces the amount of gravitational pull exerted on your body as you rebound, which effectively cuts down on the strain that is placed on your knees. The size of a mini trampoline's rebounding surface -- generally 3 feet in diameter -- is much smaller than traditional trampolines and, thereby, limits how high you can jump. The mini trampoline's ability to limit rebounding height, combined with the elasticity of the rebounding surface, makes jumping on a mini trampoline a relatively safe type of exercise if you have knee problems.”

Phew! They also suggest wearing shoes: “wear appropriate athletic shoes when rebounding on a trampoline. Athletic shoes provide stability and extra cushioning that absorb impact. Exercise at a low to moderate intensity on a trampoline to regulate the amount of strain that is placed on your knee.”

So, that said, this is mine.

I got it on Amazon, for just $30, which I think is an amazing deal! And it is very easy to assemble yourself. And, this one in particular, it folds in half. So if you don’t have the full 3 feet all the way around to store it in, but you can go deeper, and don’t mind popping it in and out, it does fold.

Now, you need to be careful when you are buying these, because they have different weight limits. Some are for kids and only tolerate, like, 100 pounds on them. Make sure you’re getting the exercise one that can handle your actual weight.

Now, you can also get a bar with this, which kind of locks on to the side and gives you a whole other range of exercises.

You can also incorporate exercise bands and such, and get even more. But we’re just going to stick with only the trampoline.

WebMD has a great article with rebounder exercises. The first one is just basically bouncing. This works your quads, glutes, and calves. You want your feet about 6” apart, and you want to go about 6” off the ground when you bounce.

You can also do a “prance”, which is basically running in place with those high knees. You want to have your hands on your hips, strait back, high knees.

Finally, they recommend a kind of jumping squat, which I can’t explain better than they do. So you start with your feet together and arms down, then “Jump up, spread your feet just wider than shoulder width, and land in a squat position with your knees bent and thighs parallel to the ground -- as if you were going to sit down in a chair. Your arms should be straight out in front of you.”

So we’ll try that…

So, obviously, you would do so many reps and sets of these, just like you would with weight training. They recommend 30 reps, but as always, do what feels right for you.

Now, VeryWellFit has an article with a 40 minute rebounder routine! You probably shouldn’t jump right into that long of a workout. Start small at 10 or 20 minutes, until you know your knees and such can take it. But the good thing is that they have a lot of exercises we can look at.

In their warm up, they recommend walking or jogging in place, and a light bounce, which is like the bounce we did earlier, but your feet don’t actually leave the surface.

Then, they have a Sumo squat. You stand with your feet right at the edges here, and squat down, straight back, and touch the back. In theory here your knees will be at a 90 degree angle. Then you stand up, raising your arms over your head.

Their last warm up idea is a Lunge and Twist. So you step off the back into a lunge, then, “Keeping your torso upright and evenly centered between your feet, bend both knees and lower your left knee toward the floor. As you do, twist your torso to the right, engaging your obliques. When your right knee forms a 90-degree angle, reverse the movement, press back to standing, and twist your torso back to center.”

Then you swap legs.

Once you get into the actual warm up, they start with a kind of jumping jack. You start in the center, jump to the outside, and then back in. You want to do this a little slower than you might to a jumping jack on the floor, because you want to make sure you’re staying in the right place, not getting too close to the edge, etc.

They also suggest scissor jumps, which is the same thing but going front and back instead of side to side.

Then there’s the 180 degree turn, where you get a little momentum and then turn a full 180 in the air. And you go back the other way. If that’s a little tricky for you, you can start with 90 degrees.

Mogul jumps are similar, and if you ever seen anyone skiing moguls this will look familiar. When you jump, you stay facing forward, but your hips and knees are twisted 45 degrees to the side. Be really careful with this one. You don’t want to twist too far, or come down wrong…

You can also do side jumps, where you go from the center, to the right, then the left, right, left. Again, you want to use your momentum, but don’t risk hitting the side.

And also, pretty much every floor exercise we learned before can be done on a rebounder. You can use it for pushups. You can use it for a slightly more flexible “floor” for your crunches or bird dogs or whatever.

Now, on to the big one!

I got mine on Amazon’s prime day sale for a huge discount. It is normally $300 but I got it for just over $200. So check out prime day for super deals on these kinds of things. I got my little one on prime day too, for a discount. I love Prime Day.

So, anyway, if you have access to a big trampoline, there are some great exercises you can do. Now, this one, clearly, has more impact, so you want to be careful. I also get winded easily, as you might guess, so I have to sit down between.

So first, basically everything from the little one translates up, you can bounce, walk, jog, high knees, all of this.

You can also do stars and scissors and turns and those side jumps.

But, as Livestrong notes in their article on big trampolines, there are some unique tricks you can do to.

You can do high knees, and butt kicks.

There’s also a max jump, where you get a bit of momentum going and try to get as high as you can. I like combining this one with something that is just fun, sitting and trying to bounce back up.

You have to be careful, as you can misfire with this and hurt yourself, and you really want to get some good height before you try it, but it can be so awesome to get it!

And, of course, this is super tiring, but super fun. I talked before about picking something that you enjoy so it won’t feel like exercise, and bouncing on a trampoline certainly fits that bill for me!

So that’s it for today!

This has been Roly Poly Weight loss. As always, I am your host, Roly Poly. Share your trampoline routines, with the hashtag #Trampoline. Or just awesome trampoline pictures of you or your hair defying gravity!

And please join me next time!

[doetoes-blog]

Sarah I told my parents about my eating disorder and now they're creating a meal plan for me to stick to. The thing is, I don't know if I'm ready to recover. Every time I think about eating the food I start to panic. I was crying for hours just thinking about it. I don't know if I'm ready yet.

first of all, i’m so, so proud of you for accepting you have a problem and reaching out for help. that can be the hardest part of the recovery journey for a lot of people, and you’re already past that hurdle. well done! 

keep in mind that everything i’m about to say is stuff that helped me get from starvating to eating intuitively and from hating my body to viewing it neutrally. this just comes from my experience, and since i’m not you i have no idea what will and what won’t help. so don’t be discouraged if anything i say doesn’t immediately help you, or help you at all. that said, here are some things to think about: (under the cut because this is reeeeally long and it’s basically my “ED Recovery For Dummies” walkthrough lol)

your brain is starved of nutrients right now. that exacerbates your eating disorder and any other mental/neurological disorders you may have. things will get easier once you start refeeding your brain, i promise. it won’t be this hard forever.

you have a disorder. you’re sick. i know you logically know that, but do you internalize it? do you understand that your brain is screaming at you to self destruct because it’s sick? you, yourself, the lovely anon in my inbox, the amazingly strong person who stepped forward to ask for help, do not actively want to starve themself. you don’t truly want this - your disorder is tricking to you. recovery from an eating disorder is no different than physical therapy after breaking an arm. it’s going to be tough, but you need to build your strength back to heal. here’s the thing: until you’re firmly in recovery, you’re never going to feel ready to recover. that’s part of being sick. just like until you’ve gone through physical therapy, your arm is going to hurt! but in the end, it’s all worth it.

food is fuel. food is fuel. food is fuel. you wouldn’t try to drive a car 100 miles on a drop of gasoline, would you? of course not, that’s not how cars work - and that’s not how your body works! think about all of the amazing things your body needs fuel to be able to do. pet dogs, walk through the park, smile at babies, hug your family, read books, whatever you enjoy doing. you can’t drive to the beach without gas and you can’t walk on the beach without food.

this part may be diffiult to accept right now, but keep it in mind anyway: food is just fuel. a stick of celery and a cookie are both fuel, they’re just different types of fuel. we needs all types of fuel to be able to function the way that we want to. that said, it’s perfectly fine to enjoy fueling your body. it’s not a reflection of your character if you bond with your family over a nice meal. it’s not sinful to have a treat when you want one. no food is the enemy, and when you stop seeing food as the enemy, ironically, you’ll have more control over it.

in the same vein as thinking about the things you need food to do, make a list of all of the positive things your body does. i’m not a big advocate for body positivity because it’s just not realistic to think we’re the hottest thing to ever walk the earth every second of every day (heck, not even the people we think are the hottest thing to ever walk the earth think that!) but i do firmly believe in respecting that your body is a work of art that is powerful and utilitarian. you might wish your (body part) was (smaller/bigger/rounder/straighter/whatever) but at the end of the day, your body is a miracle in motion. your nose, however pointy or round or big or small, smells because of billions of years of evolution that collided to create the perfect you that smells. your legs, however long or short or soft or stick-like, are the reason you can walk from point a to point b. they are strong enough to carry you for miles. did you know humans have the best endurance of any animal on planet earth? prehistoric humans stayed alive only because they chased animals until the animals just couldn’t walk anymore. we migrated all over the planet because our legs can take us all the way from africa all the way to alaska. and your legs can do that! isn’t that amazing?

remember: you’re not just eating a scary meal. you’re retraining your brain to have a more neutral view of food. you’re retraining your body to use food as fuel. you’re retraining your willpower to do what you want, not what the disorder wants. mealtimes may be a battle, but you’re going to win this war.

not all of these may help you right away, but they’re good things to be aware of. they won’t all come to you at once. for me, just surrounding myself with these positive reminders, even when i didn’t fully believe them, eventually helped me internalize them.

some extra tidbits:

self care, whatever that means to you, is a huge part of body neutrality and recovery. for me, it’s reading, having a bedtime routine and set bedtime schedule, having a good skincare routine, volunteering, and reparenting myself. for you, it could be playing the obo and painting your toenails. just find what works for you. when it’s hard, think about how you would treat someone you love, or maybe a child that was in your care, and treat yourself that way. eventually you’ll learn to love yourself.

surround yourself with positive people. drop negative people. if someone tries to talk to you about their ~new crazy fried chicken and tissue paper diet that made them lose 9489374 pounds in ten seconds~ explain to them that you’re not the person to be talking aboutt that with. if they don’t respect that, give them the boot. the reason for this is because you need to cultivate a life where you can grow. think about it like you’re a gardener fertilizing the soil, picking the weeds, and watering a plant so that it can bloom into a beautiful flower. your surroundings have a huge impact on your mental health! in speaking of surrounding yourself with positive people,

this video explains exactly how i started recovery.

^ @oatsnjen‘s entire channel did wonders for me. she gives lots of advice about countering diet culture/disordered eating in her eating vlogs. she showed me what a healthy amount of food looked like and taught me that eating a healthy amount of food with some treats whenever you want them won’t make you die of a heart attack.

@whatmiadidnext is generally an amazing channel (though some videos can be stressful because she speaks out about serious issues in society, so just be careful if you’re super sensitive). here’s a great video that helped me realize that recovery is possible, albeit slow. here’s her explanation of intiutive eating. this is really what i based my current “diet” (meaning how/what/when/etc what i eat) on.

i need to follow more recovery/positivity blogs on tumblr, but my faves right now are @carissa-n-cream @chaoticawakening @sheisrecovering @edo-vivendum @queen-of-carbs @peachisty @sketchesinstillness. just generally focus on keeping your surroundings positive!

i reccomend staying away from the “hey guys i eat nothing but organic oxygen and gmo free dirt and do a billion pushups a minute to burn it off and i’m healed from my eating disorder! :-)” folks because they can lead you down a path of pseudo-recovery. i’m not going to call anyone out, but just ask yourself if a blogger/vlogger/tweeter/whatever 1. views food as fuel 2. exercises to care for their health, not to keep a certain body shape and 3. focuses on the positive - it’s okay to talk about the difficult parts of recovery, but it may be harmful if someone has the attitude of “woe is me look how sad and tiny and little uwu i am.” answer for yourself if they’re a good influence on you or not.

good luck anon; my inbox is always open and i’ll be praying for you. 💕

[proseofpresence]

Mountain Pose: I’m Practicing Alone

I’m practicing aloneness.  If the physicians ahead of me in the Starbucks line, with their buff arms and tight bums, merely practice medicine after 20 years of grueling training, I can practice changing 20 years of dating preoccupation: I love myself.  I am happy with my company.  As I wait for my tall almond milk latte, I imagine being surrounded in white light and focus on beauty: the pungency of oily beans, the hiss of frothing milk, the gratitude for monks who first pressed beans with water.  I try not to look to see if the tall, dark haired doctor- whom I imagine is as bold as his Sumatra roast- is married. Though he’s the embodiment of beauty and checks out my legs as I stride by, I love myself.  I am happy with my company.

I practice on my mat in a yoga class of married, ectomorphic women in designer stretch pants. Just as a I begin to count my breaths from here to nirvana, chatter rambles between my ears about the petite blond next to me wearing a traceable two karat, breathing heavily during Downward Dog: Does she make those sounds during sex? How did she get a man to commit?   I forgive myself by polishing judgment from the diamond in my mind.  I love myself.  I am happy with my company.

Over organic salads, craft drinks, and beach outings, my married girlfriends dish trite, collective advice, which annoys me enough to induce listening.

“Stop looking.  Joe and I met when I was just happy being by myself.  Just love yourself.  When the time’s right, he’ll show up.  Get off online dating.  Let him find you.  Let go.”

Easy to say when you’re spooned nightly by a slightly rotund, balding, legal devotee.  

Ironically, none of my friends know how to love themselves, as evidenced by their addictive habits, childhood anecdotes rife with trauma, and palpable grief for Netflix characters.  

“If we truly loved ourselves, we wouldn’t desire partnership at all,” I tell them.  

Yet, like the time my college dormmates challenged me to down an entire bottle of Boone’s malt liquor and take photos in my padded pushup with strangers (what happened to that disposable camera?), I give in to peer pressure: this non-doing is another form of doing I have yet to try, so I give it a go.  Desiring to not desire is still desire, my superconscious says, while I consciously roll my eyes at myself, only to hug and rock my singledom from side to side in Knees-To-Chest.  I love myself.  I am happy with my company.    

The only people who don’t give me advice are my parents who, after 43 years of marriage, attest to the power of sensuality.  They met at a high school dance in the late 60s.  As he places Abbey Road on the turntable and sips on chianti, Dad insists, “Mom got fresh and tried to hold my hand on the dance floor.”  

Mom vehemently denies this and rolls her eyes, as she makes him a plate of cheese, olives, and Italian bread, assuring me that, “Your father pursued and wooed and never let me put my hand in my pocket for anything.”  

I smile duteously for the thirtieth time, secretly wondering how I was conceived from such a fairytale, and why I’m relegated to swiping left on Randall, who posts self-aggrandizing shirtless photos in bed and trophies an illegally caught grouper above his head.  Perhaps it’s college karma fifteen years late.  

Staring out the glass sliders to see Dad hosing Mom’s orchids and birds of paradise, I realize no one’s touched my hand in five months. No one’s asked me to dance since last year, when I went out with the red bearded foreman (what was his name again?) who swiped right on me and, subsequently, on my left breast on the dance floor.  A few dances and drinks in, our make out session was unexpectedly interrupted by his ex, a high barfly.  

“You’re so pretty,” she slurred and close talked as her jaw pounded in fast rhythms, “why are you with him?”  

Something in the way she moves attracts me like no other lover, something in the way she woos me...  

Sadness upsurges unexpectedly in my chest.  To avoid crying, I hold a pitted olive between my fingers, stare at its roundness, pop it in my mouth, and revel in its firmness.    I love myself.  I am happy with my company.

At 38, attending a six-week English graduate program on a remote Vermont mountain requires a balance between downsizing and realism.  I’m too old to capsize my mid-maintenance lifestyle into one suitcase, and I’m too lazy to drive from Florida.  Hence, the purchase of an auto train ticket.  I only allow myself two variations of the essentials to fit into three plastic crates and a large garment bag.  I’m sure 19th Century waggoneers seeking squatters’ rights set similar parameters, considering they never knew when a barn dance would occur. This reasonable rule, of course, does not pertain to t-shirts, jewelry, vitamin supplements, or coffee pods.  These items are a form of self-care and facilitate self-love, I tell myself, while trying to puzzle together high heels with a NutriBullet and facial steamer. I love myself.  I am happy with my company.

We introduce ourselves- the “singletons” as the smiling attendant calls us- while the dinner car speeds past hidden inlets and mobile homes of the southern Carolinas.  The two Baby Boomers, about ten years apart in age, are pulled backward by the train, a reversal that would cause me to lose my braised chicken dinner.  John, the older, smaller statured gentleman, sits across from me; and Kent, whose left eye bulges with blood post ocular surgery, sits across from Lin, a disheveled, yawning anesthesiology resident who mumbles as she speaks.  I worry, as she talks the most excitedly and clearly all meal about “having a person’s autonomic functions in [her] hands,” that she might pass out in the middle of the procedure or our dinner.  After Kent starts talking about his drug experimentation in the 60s, which interests Lin because she “aced pharmacology,” I engage John in the hopes that Kent stops obsequiously staring at my breasts.  

With a slight smile, John tells me he’s a Snow Bird returning to upstate New York for the summer until his upcoming trip to Norway, Sweden, and Finland.   Grateful that he’s well-traveled- to divert me from making eye contact with Kent, who’s tried to get my attention a few times- we chat about our favorite places.

“Bora Bora is all it’s cracked up to be,” he says staring out the window in a moment of fond reminiscence.  “I took a cruise to islands in the area with an elite line: only fifty people on the ship.   I got to know everyone.  Good for a single guy.  The food was fabulous.  Not anything like this menu, which hasn’t changed in the eight years I’ve been taking the train.  Pharmaceutical sales- though I was technically a drug dealer- was good to me.”  

I like that he speaks in complete thoughts with a bit of oversharing: he doesn’t make this a working dinner for me. By the time melting ice cream and surprisingly decent coffee rattle in front of us, we’ve effortlessly shared stories about South Africa, southern Italy, and Bavaria.  

“I used to travel with someone,” he admits in growing comfort, “but, it’s actually better being on my own.  I like golfing and history, two subjects most women don’t prefer.  The older I get, the more set in my ways I become.  There are certain things I need to travel with.   Sometimes I like it to just be quiet.   I like my company. I never really hit it off with someone for more than two weeks.  Marriage, it seems, just wasn’t in the cards.”  

For a second, I wish the train was moving us into another timeline, one where we meet in the middle of our loveless histories, two singletons of a similar age looking out windows in search of the other.  Just before the silence goes on for too long, grief wells in my eyes as I think of a man I miss, of a similar name somewhere in Africa, who tinkered around my house for two weeks fixing things and me, who wasn’t in my cards.   I love myself.  I am happy with my company.

“You are just like the shrink on Billions.  I just love her.  So smart and sexy,” Kent interjects, pulling me into the present, as the attendant clangs dirty plates away, and he slurps his remaining chardonnay. “If you want to chat later, I have one of those privacy cots in car 5325.”

“No thank you,” I assert as an unexpected confidence rises in my throat.   “I am happy with my company.”  

All I can think about is his bulging eye and how Paul Giamatti would likely never drink chardonnay.  All I can do is imagine him surrounded in white light and thank him, by touching my heart, for focusing on my beauty.  

I’m living aloneness in my single dorm room, while taking black and whites of deserted churches and barns, in writing at the lone coffee shop, while searching for a meal that isn’t pub grub, in suffering no cell service, while spending $50 on two bags of groceries, in doing laundry from a coin operated machine, while profusely sweating no air conditioning, in missing Dad play dress-up with my nieces, while seeing photos of Mom cradling her new puppy, in lamenting the closest yoga studio is an hour away, while listening to low-maintenance strangers during communal dinners, in reading Titus Andronicus’ bloody demise, while running past Robert Frost’s diverging wood, in letting go of the fantasy of meeting my husband amid fireflies, while breathing out the fear that this is all there is and will ever be.  I love myself.  I am happy with my company.

#modernlove #30sdating #vermont #yoga #selflove #proseofpresence #poetryofpresence

[ketonow-blog]

***KetoNow*** If you are trying to lose weight or improve your nutrition,!!!

KetoNow Do not give in to your cravings. This is often difficult when you are fighting a particularly strong craving. Use your willpower to resist that fatty cheesecake you want so badly. Try brushing your teeth, to fill it with a minty taste that distracts you. You can also kill your appetite by grossing yourself out and watching a horror movie.One of the keys to weight loss is finding an activity you like and sticking with it. This helps you burn lots of calories, and also gives you room to play with. Choosing an exercise activity you enjoy keeps you motivated and doesn't feel like exercise - it feels like fun!You can always find time for exercise, no matter how jam packed your schedule is. For instance, you can even do pushups or dips on your kitchen counter while waiting for dinner.

The subliminal effect of keeping the clothes will be to affirm that regaining the weight is okay because you still have the clothes. By removing larger clothing, you will be forced to stay at this weight or go smaller.Take some time during your day to focus on contracting and relaxing the muscles in your abdomen and back. After trying this for awhile, take a break and start again. This will tone your muscles as well as improve your posture.

The size of your plate can actually affect the amount you eat. Decrease the plate size to decrease the portion size, and you'll be on the right track to losing weight. Most people fill their plates or bowls with food, however plate sizes have increased over the years along with portion sizes, and it can be difficult to easily tell the how much is the right amount of food. If you eat dinner from salad plates, you will wind up eating less.

Eating a healthier diet is important when you are trying to lose weight but it is not the only thing you need to do. Exercise also needs to be included. That means finding creative ways to increase your heart rate and burn calories on a daily basis. When you are first starting a workout routine, try to go to the gym around hree times a week. Increase the amount of time you are working out after you have been at it for a while. 

Green tea is a great addition to any nutritional program as it helps you clean you system and eliminate fat that prevents weight loss. Other than water, regular green tea is the best thing to drink in terms of health. It will effectively boost your weight loss goals.Increasing your exercise, and decreasing the amount of food you eat, is the best combination for weight loss success. Boosting your metabolism and eating fewer calories will assist your body in burning fat.

Weigh daily to help ensure you stay on track. This will make you aware of any progress or setbacks. Just be sure that you have a scale that's calibrated right, and weigh yourself each day at a certain time to avoid weight fluctuations. Smaller dinnerware will make your plate smaller servings and help you eat less. What a great way to reduce calories easily!Maintaining a diet with alot of fresh veggies and fruits may be difficult. Consider freezing either when possible to keep a host of options on hand at all times. By storing frozen broccoli, you will have it readily available when you want to prepare a quick healthy meal. This will get rid of many of your excuses!

Stay away from miracle pills that are plastered everywhere on the internet. There is no significant proof that these diet pills will help you with your weight loss goals. Companies that promise quick fixes often fail to give you enough information to make a smart choice, so losing weight naturally is often a better decision.Consume low calorie foods that fill you up. Eating something like soup or salad before the main course will have you ingesting fewer calories. You could also try drinking some water or unsweetened drinks before your meals to achieve the same thing.

Read More >>> http://www.tophealthresource.com/ketonow/

[lauramalchowblog]

Posterior Chain Training: Exercises for a Strong Lower Back

There is an epidemic of chronic lower back pain.8 It’s one of the leading causes of “Years Lived with Disability” (YLD), is responsible for over 7 million ER room visits each year, and costs us both time (hard to do much of anything when our lower back is hurting) and money (people with lower back pain end up spending thousands of dollars a year on average to treat it). I can’t think of anything that degrades overall quality of life more than persistent lower back pain.

And as is so often the case, our attempts to treat the condition often make it worse. What does the average person do when their back hurts?

They avoid using their back altogether. They tiptoe around and craft a cocoon of comfort for their lumbar spine. Chairs that recline. Slouching. Leaning on their arms. It’s only natural to avoid the pain, but it is also our undoing. In order to reduce low back pain, we must make our backs stronger by training it.

But that’s not how the average person trains.

They’re doing pushups and bench presses. They’re curling (sometimes in the squat rack). They’re doing leg presses and squats. They want strong chest, biceps, quads, and they have them, but they also have the rounded shoulders of the bench press addict, the “folded in hulk” look. Those are the parts that pop in the mirror. They’re the easiest to monitor and see grow before your eyes. They’re what you see when you flex.

And don’t get me wrong. Those exercises and those muscles are incredibly important for health and performance (and aesthetics). But they neglect perhaps the most vital musculoskeletal complex in the human body: the posterior chain.

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Posterior Chain Muscles

Think of your posterior chain muscles as the muscles that hold up your back, starting at your waistline. Posterior chain muscles include:

The butt, including the gluteus minimus, gluteus medius, gluteus maximus

The hamstrings

The lower back muscles (erector spinae)

Some sources include the calves or latissimus dorsi (aka lats, or side back muscles) in the posterior chain, but the primary ones are lower back, glutes, and hamstrings.

How Can Posterior Chain Training Reduce Lower Back Pain?

In movement, the posterior chain controls hip extension—the hip hinge we perform to lift heavy objects, jump great distances and heights, make explosive movements like throwing punches or fastballs, and run sprints. When you swing a golf club or baseball bat, most of the power comes from the hip extension performed by the posterior chain.

In everyday life, the posterior chain maintains posture. It’s the foundation upon which the torso rests, moves, and stabilizes. It provides safety and security for smaller upper body movements and power for larger lower body movements.

When we neglect the posterior chain, our lower back suffers. It bears the brunt of the work. Its primary role is to resist motion, to provide stability as the rest of the body moves, to be a lever. But when the hips aren’t moving and the posterior chain isn’t engaged, the lower back must move—for which it is ill suited.

Can’t hinge at the hips to pick up that Lego or move that bag of mulch? You’ll hinge with the lower back. Easy way to tweak it.

Can’t engage your glutes to hold up your torso? Your lower back will cover for them. Easy way to develop an overuse injury.

When you’re working at a laptop or scrolling your phone, hunched over, head jutting forward, your lower back bears the brunt of the weight. It’s not a lot of weight. You may not even feel the pain or strain in your lower back muscles. But it’s a low level chronic stress applied to your lower back that reduces its overall work capacity. So when you go from your desk job to the gym and try to deadlift, your lower back can’t tolerate as much resistance. It’s more likely to fail.

When we sit, the posterior chain is “turned off.” The glutes are inactivated, the hamstrings are slack, and the lower back muscles assume the role of posture stabilizer.

When we’re inactive, the posterior chain atrophies. If you’re not throwing balls, lifting barbells, jumping, sprinting, or heck, dancing and playing, you are not using your posterior chain.

Worse still, lower back pain often dissuades people from training the posterior chain. So many of the most effective posterior chain exercises require the lower back to resist forces acting on it that it scares people — and the medical professionals treating them. The last thing the average doctor will tell his or her patient with low back pain to do is swing a kettlebell or do Romanian deadlifts. This is understandable—you can hurt yourself and make the problem worse — but it’s also unfortunate because proper posterior chain training is one of the best allies we have in the fight against low back pain.

Do involve your doctor, though. You’ll want to rule out any small injuries that could become significant or debilitating injuries before you jump into posterior chain exercises. 

Deadlifts for Lower Pack Pain

Wait a minute, Sisson: are you saying that deadlifts can actually improve lower back pain?

Yes.

In a 2015 study, 39 men and women with chronic low back pain underwent a 16 week free weight training course.9 They did deadlifts, goblet squats, lunges, planks, and step-ups. This was a progressive program, meaning they started with lower weights and added resistance as they progressed in strength. Loads were between 6 and 10-rep max.

After 16 weeks, they were stronger, their pain had dropped by 72%, their disability score had improved by 76%, and their overall quality of life (every 4 weeks they completed a self-assessment) had skyrocketed.

Another study from the same year had similar results.10 Both the deadlifting group and the group who did more traditional back pain exercises saw major improvements in pain and functionality.

The key with the deadlift is it’s very safe and indeed beneficial for the lower back as long as you maintain proper form. In the two studies I mentioned, researchers didn’t just tell the patients to start deadlifting their 6 rep max. They coached proper technique. If a subject couldn’t maintain a flat (neutral) spine, they raised the barbell until they could.

Neutral spine is everything. You’re not bending your lower back to move the weight. It must stay flat.

Hinge at the hips. Lift with your hips (glutes and hamstrings), not your back.

Barbell deadlifts are the gold standard, but they aren’t required. You can do trap bar deadlifts, kettlebell deadlifts, Romanian deadlifts, or sumo deadlifts. What matters is that you hinge at the hips and maintain a neutral spine using proper technique.

It’s important to not max out. In fact, if you’re deadlifting to address back issues, start light. Going for a PR with back pain is not the ticket. Stick to 6-10 rep sets—enough to provide resistance and build strength gradually.

Planks for Lower Back Pain

The plank is about as simple and accessible as it gets. You don’t need any equipment but the ground. You can modify them to be as easy or as hard as you like.

Do ’em on the knees if you can’t manage the toes. Do them on your hands if the elbows are too much.

Get in the pushup position, only put your forearms on the ground instead of your hands. Your elbows should line up directly underneath your shoulders. Toes on the ground.

Squeeze your glutes and tighten your abdominals.

Keep a neutral neck and spine.

Create a straight, strong line from head to toes – a plank, if you will.

Hold that position.

Repeat.

Tips and cues for best results:

Don’t let your hips sag down to the ground. Sagging hips makes the exercise initially easier, but it takes your posterior chain out of it and defeats the purpose of the exercise.

Look down at the ground. This is a good prompt for maintaining a neutral neck and thus spine position.

When your form begins to suffer, pull the plug. You’re only benefiting from the plank by actually doing the plank.

Does it work? In subjects with chronic lower back pain, 8 weeks of planks improved lower back pain and improved low back strength.11

Planks can be done just about every day. They’re a great way to start the morning or break up sedentary time.

Kettlebell Swings for Lower Back Pain

These are not to be taken lightly. Whereas planks and deadlifts are relatively linear and non-dynamic, KB swings take a lot of precision to get right, especially if you have lower back pain. A lot can go wrong with a poorly-done kettlebell swing.

This is a hip hinge and hip extension exercise. All the power should be coming from your glutes and hamstrings with your lower back a stable lever for transferring the force. If you use your arms to “swing” the kettlebell, you’re doing it wrong. Arms should be passive.

Keep the weight on your midfoot/heel. If the weight gets “in front” of you and you start going onto your toes, your lower back will bear the brunt.

At the height of the swing, maintain upright posture and a straight torso. Do not lean back—this takes the emphasis off the hips and places it on the lower back.

When the weight is coming back down, accept it by sticking your butt back and hinging your hips. Don’t “bend over”; get those hips back.

Stick with a weight you can swing for 20-30 reps at a time. You’re not going for any records here. You just want to get the blood flowing and the hips moving. One effective method is to keep a kettlebell in your office and do a minute of swings every hour.

There are other posterior chain exercises you can do to improve lower back pain, but these give the biggest bang for the buck. They should serve as the foundation for your journey back to pain-free life.

Do you have lower back pain? What worked for you? What didn’t work?

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References

http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/20533901

https://www.thieme-connect.com/products/ejournals/abstract/10.1055/s-0032-1312656

http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/3143481

http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/1901193

http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3533616/

http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/7332312

http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/8274363

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4939568/

https://bmjopensem.bmj.com/content/bmjosem/1/1/e000050.full.pdf

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/25641309

https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/26864586/

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