Pink Dumbbells, Girl Pushups, and the Messed Up Projection of Female Ideals

I'm brushing my teeth with my left hand, yanking my foot through my jeans with my right, and staring down a strange splotch on the bathroom mirror.  It may be pre-schooler spittle, it may be leftover cat vomit: it's nothing a little vinegar and lemon can't combat, right? I put down the toothbrush and lean to rinse my mouth with water and I notice something besides the disturbing splotch: there are deep grooves in my shoulders, ripples of muscles that have never been there before.  I examine for a bit: cool.  I dig the groove.  The wretched shoulder presses at Crossfit are doing something other than causing mass amounts of... [More]