A month ago, I was on the trip of a lifetime in Cambodia and Australia. The how that odd combination came about is a bit of a long story, which I will get to at some point in time because I’m notoriously bad at writing about my travels until they’re long passed.
Seeing the Sydney Opera House for the first time.
Exploring the temples of Angkor Wat.
Anyhow, I was in Cambodia and Australia for three weeks, and it was the best goddamn trip of my entire life. It was life changing; then, it was more life changing. I think it’s going to be one of the most life altering, influential trips of my life. Before this trip, I was working towards a future, but, now, I am incredibly excited about my future.
While on my trip, there were a lot of life lessons. I would love to admit they were new and earth shattering. They weren’t. They were all things I knew cognitively and have preached but not really done because I’m a giant hypocrite. So, here are some of the lessons I learned while I was traversing the globe.
Playing in the ocean at Sunset Beach on Koh Rong Sanleom, Cambodia.
Cambodia is not at all close to Australia. I booked my trip within a trip thinking, ‘Gee, I’m already on that side of the world. Can’t be that long of a flight.’ Jokes on me. The flight from Sydney to Kuala Lumpur was longer than the longest flights I’d been on before this trip by a chunk. They may be close in time zones, but they’re in completely different hemispheres. I promise, I’m not dumb.
Let friends help. I’m so bad at accepting help. My trip started off… Well, I legitimately had a panic attack before I’d even arrived at my gate in Houston. This trip was almost the very worst experience of my life. I’m me and can figure it out. But more importantly, I accepted help that was given freely and with love from a few very close friends. Hindsight, so fucking glad I did. My entire trip would’ve been miserable otherwise.
Just go. I was a bit anxious about Cambodia. Likely not for the reasons you’re thinking. It’s the first time I’ve been in a country where I don’t speak the language. Not even a little bit. I knew NOTHING. I picked up some. Very little. I tried. Khmer is beautiful. I wasn’t perfect at it, but the people are amazing, and I didn’t need to be.
Spend the money. I have always been on the save, save, save for vacations so I can spend, spend, spend whatever I want (within budget) on the trip. I have always enjoyed just doing and buying the things I never would in my real life while traveling. This trip went a bit different. I’m also older. I spent money in a different way than I used to. I came home with almost nothing because I didn’t really want anything. I spent a bunch of money on doing stuff and staying in cool places.
Don’t spend the money. There were a lot of factors in not spending money on things. I’m older than I used to be and have more stuff than I know what to do with. I also no longer believe I need souvenirs to remember a trip by. Although, I would really love a chair from Cambodia. Pictures are now my keepsake of choice. I also had the constraint of changing places almost every day and bopping between CONTINENTS and having to carry everything. I had a plethora of opportunities to spend money on things. I chose not to. A month later, I don’t regret it.
I have cell phone service in the Cambodian jungle. I can facetime my dogs from a remote Cambodian island. But I couldn’t send a text from Grand Canyon National Park. The RIM. Not even IN the canyon. This will never cease to amaze me.
Let your friends bully you. I mean, not in the realest definition of the word ‘bully,’ but in the friendly, they-love-you-and-want-the-best-for-you way. I listened to my friend, Sabina, and that literally changed the trajectory of my future. I will be forever grateful.
Trust your gut. I am notorious for overriding my gut feeling. In everything from life to love. My gut has always, always, alwaysbeen right. Why did it take me this fucking long to listen to it. I trusted my gut the entire trip, and I’ve never had a better, easier trip in my entire life.
Trust strangers. This is actually something I’ve always been pretty good at. There was a moment when I was 30 minutes into a tuk tuk ride, taking me out of the capital into rural Cambodia, passing cows and farmland with a man I had just met three hours earlier, munching on lotus he’d bought me, no questions asked, and the thought ‘Hmmm… this could’ve been a bad idea.’ Except it was a brilliant idea! I trusted my gut, which lets me trust strangers. Which turns strangers into friends. And friends make life so much more fun. FYI Bunna is the kindest man and best tuk tuk driver. If you’re ever in Phnom Penh, I’ll give you his number.
Keep your heart and mind open. It’s the best way to travel. It’s the best way to live. It’s always led me in really interesting directions. I think it might be leading me into the most exciting adventure of my life.
Go for it. Don’t look back.
Bisous und обьятия!
Looking at Popokvil Waterfall in Bokor National Park.
A baby Northern pig-tailed macaque watching from the trees in Bokor National Park outside of Kampot, Cambodia.
Learning how to surf at Bondi Beach in Sydney, Australia.
Back in April 2022, I started getting really serious about consistently working out. For the first time ever. Granted there was a very long period of time where I was super active as a dancer up until I was 23. I didn’t have to make a conscientious effort to move my body; I just always was. I’m an active person. I love rock climbing, walking, and playing sports with friends, though I am more than very bad. My vacations trend towards adventure with a lot of hiking or walking. Me out of shape is still very in shape.
Are those abs? What in the world?
Then I got into shape for realsies. Or at least, I was on the path. I was running six days a week and going to yoga at least four. In the span of two months, I lost 20 pounds and was in the lithest shape I’d ever been in in my adult body. I even ran a couple races and finished solidly just above mid-pack. Yay me. I hate running.
My dedication to working out floundered in July when I was constantly traveling. In August, my best friend and co-pawrent had a hip replacement, which took all of my time for four weeks and most of my time for an additional four weeks. A quarter of the way into his recovery, I seriously broke my hand—it’s still healing—and, being the fall risk that I am, exercise was even less possible. So working out became a thing of the past. My body started shifting away from lithe and lean because of course it did.
Rock climbing again and figuring out I can do more even after I broke my hand.
But I’m getting older. It happens. I actually really love it. Our society has such a negative view of aging, and it’s so common to hear people complain about how their bodies turn to shit after 30. I’m not experiencing that. Things are changing, 100%, but I’m choosing to have a positive *insert serious internal gasp here* look at aging. So much of what our body experiences is influenced by how we view something (I have sources on this if you want to call me on it because this is a science based fact), and this is particularly pertinent to aging. So often we blame aging rather than a lack of stretching, not exercising, not stimulating our bodies/brains, poor form, overexertion, so on and so forth. It’s easier to blame age. Thirty is not old. Thirty is still so fucking young. I suffer from a lot of health problems. If I don’t want to die in the near future, it’s extra important I take care of my body in any and all ways.
The physical effects of exercise are not all that appealing to me. I’m naturally thin. It’s just genetics. I can eat like crap, do nothing, and still never go over 150 pounds at 5’10”; believe me, I’ve done my best trying. Going from a ballerina body to that of a woman with hips was an adjustment. I’ve finally made my peace with it. So I don’t exercise to look a certain way. I exercise because it is the very best thing for mental acuity as I age. My biggest fear is losing my cognitive abilities and control. Combatting that starts right now by moving my body. As much as I hate admitting it, the other really important thing for women as we age… weight lifting. I hate it. I’d rather do cardio until I pass out.
In November, I got a bougie ass gym membership. If I don’t spend too many monies on a gym membership, I will not work out regularly. I HATE wasting money more than just about anything. It’s right up there with systemic racism and all that bad shit. Running and yoga are still really hard for me. Running: I have a propensity to stumble and fall; with a hand that is still fragile, I can’t afford to lose my dominant hand again. Yoga: there’s a lot of putting weight on a hand that can’t take it yet. So I started weight lifting, and I think I accidentally became a gym rat. It’s the easiest thing for me to do with my hand. I’ve always had strong legs because… dancer. Upper body strength, what is that? Because… dancer. What I’ve lacked in strength, I’ve made up for in determination. But I hate looking weak. One way to, at least, feeling weak is knowing exactly how much weight I cannot do.
When did I get arms? Or shoulders? or abs? I’m also making a dumb ass face because why not?
I’m still scared of heights… but I can almost see muscles in this picture.
Holy fuck. There have been some serious changes in the mere two months I’ve been not so consistently weight lifting. And it’s not just limited to doubling then tripling and even quadrupling the weight I was lifting at the beginning of December.
1. Boobs My boobs are not the same boobs I had two months ago. All the muscles in my chest and abs have changed things. Lifted two things. I’ve never been known for wearing a bra because my boobs have always been right about where they should be aesthetically for today’s societal beauty standards that I hate conforming to yet historically have. My boobs are so fucking perky. It’s weird. Now, I almost never wear a bra because why would I???
2. Sleep I don’t like to sleep. It’s the antithesis of productivity, yet something I very much need for my health and a foundational element in maintaining mental acuity. Damnit. Working out has helped my sleep. It makes me tired at reasonable human times. Like midnight or one in the morning rather than never. Physical exhaustion, enough of it, can actually counteract anxiety. Who knew? It’s also made me more prone to getting up between 7:30 and 8:00 in the morning… weird. I have an almost normal sleep schedule. I wake up, like, ready to go.
3. Protein So people have been telling me for years that protein is important. Ballerina mentality means I can and do push far past what most people find acceptable levels of physicality. Limits? What even are those? Fucking weird. If I take protein before I work out… I can lift a shit ton more with ease. Who knew?? Why didn’t someone tell me that?
4. New Body My boobs aren’t the only thing that’s changing. My entire body is different. I have arm muscles. Back muscles. Abs are actually starting to show and not in the ‘my fluff is aligned in a flatteringly deceptive way’ kind of thing. My shoulders are a bit of a “what the fuck?” every time I look in the mirror. My legs are sleeker. My fluff hasn’t started falling off yet because I’m not really doing cardio. A body I’ve never had before. A body I’ve never wanted. When I bend my elbows, my forearms can feel my biceps. It’s not the ballerina body I’ve always had. It’s a strong body. It’s foreign and alien. I’m trying to get used to it. I’m still shocked as all hell that my body can look like that… this. And, truthfully, I don’t know if I like it. I’ll get there. (Especially as I keep outlifting stronger and stronger men. That helps.)
Seriously? What the fuck, shoulders?
5. My Body Feels Different Being in this body feels different, for sure. What’s really weird is how it feels when people touch me. This may not make sense. When people touch me, it feels like they’re touching me closer than ever before. Where there used to be skin, fluff, bone, it didn’t feel like there was a lot of me to touch. Now, there’s resistance when people hug or touch me because there’s muscle. It feels like they’re touching me more immediately. I’m autistic as fuck, so my sensory issues are probably in play here. But when there’s pressure on my body, my muscles have more feeling than the fluff and skin. Therefore it feels more intimate than before, like people are actually touching me rather than the buffer. I can feel people’s touch so much more intensely. In a lot of ways, it’s great… if I like the person. It’s also made me a lot, a lot, more sensitive to being touched.
6. Gym I finally realized the gym is just an age appropriate playground for adults. Once I do what I have to do for my workouts… then I can play. I’m very bad at weights and cardio and all that crap. But what I am good at: flexibility and balance. It’s so fun. I get to bounce around doing things I enjoy, and it turns out it makes other people ask if my sanity is intact because it’s so hard. Thanks ballet!
7. Orgasms I’m going to leave it at: Stronger abs, stronger…
8. Things Are Lighter Things are not lighter. I got stronger. That’s fucking weird. At 31, I am in the best, strongest shape of my life. My body also probably looks the healthiest it ever has. Ballerina bodies are beautiful but don’t exude health. I love picking up heavy, also heavy and awkward, things in front of men and them asking if I’m on steroids. They can’t do it with the same ease. And that brings me immense joy. I can also now move two 45 pound bags of dog food easily and at the same time. With six dogs, this is efficient, and I love efficiency.
9. Balance I hate balance because that means I’m human. I have a tendency to go balls to the wall with everything I do. I go hard, I go fast, and I go constantly. Rest is deserved by everyone. Except me. Lifting has taught me that I don’t have to feel like my legs and arms are falling off to get a good workout. I can workout hard and not pass out. I can take a day off or even a minute for a break without being an absolute failure of a person. I hold myself to an inhumanly high standard, partially because I’m only motivated by my own constant failure, partially because of trauma, partially because I’m just starting to realize how ingrained my ballet mentality is, partially because my mother. That standard probably will never change, and I don’t want it to. But lifting has allowed me to be okay with having a modicum of physical limitations.
10. Velocity of Change Under the fluff, muscle is growing and growing really fucking fast. My body does not change like a woman’s. It changes like a man’s. Maybe even faster. It’s weird. I’m getting an entirely different body really quickly. There is clear definition between my muscles, and that started happening within two weeks. It’s only getting worse, better, I don’t know, it’s continuing.
11. Twerking I used to be able to twerk. I can’t now. My ass has tightened up so much, I cannot twerk. No matter how hard I try. Oh lord, have I tried. Nothing. No twerking for me. I should have twerked for everyone because I’m a white lady in my 30s and no one would believe that shit. I could two months ago. Then my body changed. My butt won’t twerk anymore. I’m sad. (I think that’s the most I’ve ever used the word twerk in a paragraph, day, ever.)
