My sister can do 5 pull-ups.
Now goddamitalltohell, that really chaps my hide.
Granted, she’s lost about 55 pounds over the past year and she has done it in a totally healthy way. She changed her lifestyle. She changed her head. And, almost as a sidenote, her body has also changed.
I am wicked-fierce proud of her. She looks fabulous but, moreover, she sounds like she is just starting to catch life’s stride and open up the throttle. I mean she is full-steam-ahead and making the rest of us job-hating, dirt-kicking, wingers look like a sorry pack of fools.
The girl has got her groove.
And she’s not one for a lot of personal horn-tooting so it has been with genuine self-pride and pristine intention that she has told me about the major victories along her recent path to actualization.
She told me when the weight was all the way off (not while she was losing it) and she told me when she could kick out 5 goddam pull-ups.
It’s a big milestone. After all, it was she who taught me that strength equals beauty. What could have been more beautiful than watching her check macho adolescent boys into the glass at hockey games?
So her weight is down and her strength is up.
She’s been rock climbing like crazy and so her back is rippling and her lats contract into a pull up on command. Nevermind the biceps. Damn.
So it’s amidst a gushing pride that friendly sibling competition pushes forward. Having grown up with an 8 year spread it was rare that we ever competed directly with one another. Besides that, we were good at different things. So this feeling is a little bit new. This direct competition.
And I’m not going to lie.
I kinda like it.
But then, you already knew that.
So I stormed into my gym this morning and found my trainer. As he opened his mouth to say good morning I cut him off: “My SISTER CAN DO FIVE PULL-UPS! I repeat! Five pull-ups!!! We are CODE RED, coach! Do you hear me!!???”
As he recovered from shock and laughter he took me to the bar to see what I could do.
Two measly pull-ups.
Needless to say, today we did a brutal round of power-lifting, doing short sets of really heavy weights. You can say that he made me regret my little outburst.
But you can also bet your ass that in a month or so I’ll be cranking out pull-ups like a marine on crack.