PrettyPinkStrong
Food, strength and everyday-life guidance for women building a capable body while using GLP-1 medication.
The cheapest paper plate known to human manufacturing is currently buckling under the weight of a charred burger patty, and somebody's uncle is leaning over a smoking Weber kettle like he's guarding state secrets.
Read articleThere was a Tuesday night three years ago when I stood at my stove with two pans going at once, feeling like an exhausted line cook in my own house.
Read articleLast July, on an afternoon when the asphalt outside looked hot enough to soften a shoe sole, I was on the couch in wool socks, sweatpants, and an oversized fleece. A blanket was wrapped around my feet.
Read articleI stood at the edge of the black rubber flooring at 5:45 on a Tuesday afternoon, clutching a metal water bottle against my ribs like a riot shield.
Read articleTuesday morning. You step out of the shower, dry off, take off your watch because apparently one ounce of silicone and glass might ruin your life, and step on the scale.
Read articleAt around 3:15 on a Tuesday afternoon, my external monitor went to sleep during a phone call, and I caught my own reflection in the black glass. I was not sitting like a functioning adult.
Read articleLast Tuesday around 6:45 PM, I stood in my kitchen watching a bowl of leftover turkey chili spin in the microwave. It wasn’t bad chili.
Read articleI am at the kitchen table staring at a piece of grilled chicken as if it has personally offended me.
Read articleLast Thursday morning, I unracked an empty 45pound barbell to warm up my squat, and the thing felt like a bag of wet cement.
Read articleAt 3:14 on a Thursday morning, I woke up soaked in sweat, shivering under a damp flat sheet, with a stomach that felt like someone had poured two cups of quickdrying cement straight down my esophagus.
Read articleMy dog rolled a rubber ball under the coffee table last Tuesday. It stopped dead in the exact center of the rug, about four inches past comfortable arm's reach.
Read articleAt 4:15 on a Tuesday afternoon, I was sitting at my desk with a dull throb behind my right eye, trying to work out why a routine gym session had felt terrible.
Read articleIt is 11:15 on a Tuesday night. The dishes are done, tomorrow’s gym bag is by the door, and I am bargaining with the television.
Read articleI was sitting on the livingroom rug on a Tuesday night with orange dust on my thumb, my index finger, and somehow the cuff of my gray sweatshirt. The familysize bag of spicy tortilla chips was empty beside me.
Read articleThe first time you practice a Turkish getup, the sensible object above your fist is a shoe—not an eightkilo kettlebell. Even without weight, you may look up and wonder how you are supposed to stand without sending the shoe onto the mat.
Read articleIt is Sunday night, or maybe Tuesday morning thirtysix hours after your weekly injection, and you are staring at a fourday upperlower workout split saved in your phone notes.
Read articleAbout six months into losing weight, I sat down on a hard oak dining chair at my mother's house and thought I had bruised a bone.
Read articleAt 6:15 in the morning, an empty gym has the acoustics of a cathedral. I dropped into my first unweighted squat, reached parallel, and heard a crack from my left knee sharp enough to echo off the mirrors.
Read articleFifty seconds into a sixtysecond forearm plank, my shoulders were working hard. My glutes were squeezed, my heels were driving back, and I was holding the position with more control than I had six months earlier.
Read articleAround 6:30 in the morning, the kitchen floor is cold, the kettle is still heating, and I am standing in wool socks with one heel on the second stair.
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