How Do You Handle A Really Rough Critique?

 

I don’t mean a throw away comment that is clearly not true. I mean a really hard pill to swallow. A comment that shoots right to the heart and no matter how strong you are, you can’t smile through it. A simple phrase that plays over in your mind again and again and again…..and you try and soften the blow or explain yourself out of it as much as you can, but you can’t. They haunt you whenever there’s a bit of spare time, or especially when you’re feeling a little low or less than confident about something. Back it comes like a reoccurring mozzie bite.

Surely you know the sort of comments I mean?

 

In the sport of bodybuilding, the critiques or comments you get, are all about you. They hit the spot that hurts the most with a lot of us – the way we look. Let’s face it; no one in their right mind likes being told they don’t look good. Competitors line themselves up, literally, against others and there’s a winner and a loser in every line up.

I’m very used to the public comments that go hand in hand with my chosen hobby. Most of the time I can genuinely smile it off and appreciate that the whole look isn’t appealing to all. I was stopped outside the Coffee Club one day by a lovely lady who said to me, and I quote, “Congratulations Kirsten on your win. I didn’t like your pictures at all though. Not my cup of tea at all!! Definitely not my cup of tea – but I appreciate your hard work”. I just had to smile and accept her well wishes albeit wrapped in a strange coating.

So I’m a realist about the response from the general public to bodybuilding. Especially female body building. But what I wasn’t prepared for was my own reaction to judges’ comments. Here’s the scenario;

In May 2013 I entered a competition in Darwin and won my division. I then went to the Overall judging where all divisional winners competed against each other.  The winner was a beautiful woman who deserved her place as she looked simply amazing.

Next step - I have been advised by my coach to always seek feedback from the judges whether you win or not to ensure you know what parts need working on.  I was feeling pretty good about myself on that day. The week before I had won a regional Overall title, and I knew I was ready to peak at the Southern Hemisphere Championships in two weeks’ time. I’m far from where I ultimately want to be but I knew I was doing Ok for my time in the sport. So I feared nothing as I approached the first judge to hear what they thought I should focus on for the next season (certainly nothing could be altered in time for the next comp in 2 weeks).

I marched up asked for feedback. I quickly wished I hadn’t. I was devastated. “What could be so bad?” I hear you thinking. To be brutally honest – I don’t even want to admit it here. In the interests of a good story, I will. She told me…eek…that I had ….ouchie…. baggy skin under my bum. There you go – as vulnerable as I’ll ever be. Saggy arse skin.

I can honestly and truly tell you that I had NO idea that she was going to say that. If I had inkling, I would have certainly made sure that we were out of earshot of anyone else in that room! As it was,  I spontaneously very, very nearly had a quick cry. My eyes stung with tears and I wanted to hide in shame. I was embarrassed, humiliated and in complete shock. Overreaction? Not sure. I’m still cringing at it some one year later so I guess it was a really hard thing to take. It hurt my feelings more than anything had for a very long time.

I had another competition in two weeks and I suddenly had the world’s biggest problem to fix. For the next two weeks I perfected walking like a duck with my bum poked out and at attention 24/7. That derriere forced skyward with such intensity, I had a sore back for weeks after.

And then the comps finished and everything went back to normal. Except for my saggy, baggy bum skin. That took a while longer to fill out.

I reflected long and hard for many, many hours and many, many conversations with my man (who, by the way, absolutely loves my bum when it fat, flat, saggy or perky). There were even a few hours there when I wondered if I should give it up. I mean, I’m at an age where skin isn’t perfect. I’ve had three children and I am naturally a decent sized girl so I tend to have to lose quite a lot of weight for my competition division (which requires me to be less than 57kg). All of this means that my skin condition will never be perfect.

But I only thought that for a moment. And then I spent hours on the internet researching people who had transformed their bottoms from flat and fat to muscular and shapely. I looked at bums galore. Big bums, round bums, striated bums – you name it and I saw it. I visualised the ass of my dreams and decided that I was going to spend the next year or two ‘growing it’.

And then I changed the way I squat. I started hitting parallel and then dropping some more. I concentrate on those glutes during every second of my squats and I will those muscles to g.r.o.w. I’m not giving up without a fight and I’ve got so much fight left in me, it’s dangerous.

And, on top of it all, I started to accept that I’m just not going to be perfect. I’m probably not ever going to have a butt that will grace the cover of a g-string advertisement. It might not ever be my strongest body part. But it WILL stand up to the competition line and I will make sure I show it off in the best way I can.

Finally, if I’m feeling a bit low I don’t sit there focusing on my backside. I refuse to. I try to replace negative thoughts with positive. I can’t always turn a negative into a positive – but I can always take control of my mind and refuse to spend any more time on those things that aren’t great. I am a HUGE believer that you must take control of your thoughts – choose what you want to think about – decide what you want your mind to focus on – and be aware that what you think about again and again and again and again – you will begin to make occur. Refuse to believe this at your own risk.

Simply said, concentrating on a flabby bum, no muscle tone, how unfair it is to be judged alongside young skin, how hard it is to change such a large muscle and how much work it will be to go from a ‘pancake’ to a ‘beautifully round and hard peach’ – will do nothing for me other than to steal my confidence, encourage my self-pity, zap my self-esteem and annoy to hell anyone unlucky enough to listen to my constant moaning.

Instead, I focus on what can be achieved, how I can achieve and how grand it will be at the big reveal!!

Critiquing is a hard nuts thing. You have to have guts to seek it, and a strategy to handle it.

And then I remind myself of one more thing

Kirst - if you can't handle the heat .... get out of the friggin kitchen!!!

 

Why I Don't Touch Scales...and other things

There probably aren’t many hobbies around that are as self-centred as body building. The very essence of this activity is changing body shapes which means you need to check yourself out every which way on a regular basis to keep track of what is (and isn’t) happening. I pulled a neck muscle once when I was trying to gawk at my own hamstrings. I couldn’t look to the right for a full 24 hours. Penance for being a perv.

But In all seriousness numbers, pictures, skinfolds, callipers, dexa scans, clothes and opinions are all just ways of measuring success or failure for a lot of people. In my humble opinion, they are seldom used as a useful tool – more as a black and white measure of perceived good or bad results…if we’re being entirely honest. Here’s my shining example;

It’s a beautiful sparkling Monday morning. The birds are chirping, the sun is high in the sky, the kids aren’t fighting and I’ve got frozen blueberries to add to my porridge for breakfast. Does life get any better? “So let’s track my awesome and outstanding progress!!!” I foolishly think. I carry on giving myself a little more kudos in the privacy of my own bedroom “I feel strong as an ox and healthy as a horse. I’m hitting all of my gym goals and lifting heavier than ever. I’m smashing it!! You go girl!!” Insert a couple of selfie hi-5’s and a little side-on smirk at the mirror with a “hey – how you doin?!”

And then I decide to stand on the scales.

In a flickety-flash my internal record has changed. It’s not good. It’s not printable. But it goes something like this;

“Oh for bleep’s sake!!! Bleepity bleep bleep bleep!!! That’s not bleepity fair!!! For bleeps bleeping sake!!! BLEEP you!!!!”

So what actually changed between the kudos and the crap?

Nothing.

Nudda.

Naught.

Zero.

N..O..T..H..I..N..G…

Nothing changed.

Not a single thing.

My weight didn’t change.

My strength didn’t change.

My health didn’t change.

All the happened was one single thing.

I looked at a number.

Can you see just how mental that is????? The number didn’t change a thing about me and, not two seconds prior, I was gloriously happy with how I was going. And then I wasn’t. A sane mind can hardly process how stupid that is.

And then the kids start fighting, the house gets trashed, the porridge explodes in the microwave, I burn my friggin tongue on the half frozen/half burnt blueberries, we get out the door late and I’m yelling so loud it’s echoing down the street. I get to work and growl at nice people. The photocopier jams up and every stupid person in the world makes a beeline straight to me. I decide that I might as well give in to this shit day and decide to have a peanut butter sandwich. Holy hell – why not have 2? Let’s skip the bread – it’s only the carrier for the peanut butter anyway. Let’s go straight in with a spoon. Tastes just a tad better with a dollop of strawberry jam. Suddenly it’s spoonfuls of peanut butter and jam and we’re going at it with reckless abandon! I hang my head in shame when the jar is all-but empty. The only problem is that I’m now ‘sweeted out’ and need something savoury. Like cheese!!! MELTED CHEESE!!!! I need a carrier. Let’s go rice crackers and zap in the microwave for 20 seconds!! Chewy rice crackers and masses of melted cheese!! Oh my hat!! Too good for words!!! Half a packet and half a kilo later and I’m all savoury’d out. Just a sweet little treat to finish off. But I’m as dry as a lizard in the sun so a quick choccy milk will make it all better – said everyone. Always.

You get the picture hey? A full blown, god almighty feeding frenzy for one. It’s like a train wreck or an out of control snow ball. It comes at me and builds momentum and gathers strength until the crash inevitably occurs. And then I hang my head and wonder what the hell just happened?!! The shame is super overwhelming and I feel like I’m the only one on planet earth who does this awful thing. I’m certain no one would understand my stupidity and I’m far too ashamed to tell anyone. Not only do I feel physically sick, but I can’t think straight for the self-loathing and anger. The light at the end of the tunnel is well and truly snuffed out.

Sadly I lived this way for years. And years.

The only reason I attempt to help others is because I’ve been there and I know how it feels and I’ve come out the other side. Better than ever.

So the good news is that nowadays I do it differently. Many years ago I made some huge decisions, along with getting the help I needed to change. I decided to nurture my body and to stop cursing it. To thank it for what it’s done and doing and going to do, rather than bad-mouthing the fact that it doesn’t reach perfection.

But these are just mere words. How about an example? Bodybuilding came about ten years after I had faced my food and weight demons. I most certainly couldn’t have coped with anything before that – I needed those years to consolidate my life and to keep learning, and ultimately believing, that I could do it differently.

Nevertheless, when I turned my hand to this ‘hobby’ (full on obsession at first!!!), it threatened to waken the demons and revisit me. I couldn’t have that. I would rather take up knitting as a hobby than to go backwards into that world that I had firmly shut the door on. But I had to acknowledge my past and ensure that I was not destined to repeat it.

Hence my fear of ‘The Power of the Scales’.

So here’s how I personally have tackled it. My real life example for 2014;

1.    Always have my eye on the goal;

a.     First and foremost goal – increase muscle

b.    Secondly, remain as healthy as I possibly can while hunting down my goal.

 

2.    Decide on the way to go about it;

a.     Eat more – more good food, less shit and more regularly.

b.    Train hard – harder than I’ve ever trained before. No excuses, no laziness, no taking eyes off goal.

c.     Focus on health – HUGE part of this goal is learning and practising healthy ways to achieve my goal.

 

3.    Accept the issues that arise from #2;

a.     I am very happily a female. To put on muscle means inevitably putting on some body fat with it. I don’t need to blow up like a balloon but I do need to be in excess so I will be gaining not losing size.

b.    I need to eat food regularly. For fuel, not necessarily for fun (though I’m the world’s biggest piglet and pretty much all food is tops with me!).

 

4.    Any Extra Considerations;

a.     I know what my weight was the day before my last competition as I had to weigh in for my division. Believe it or not – I have not set foot on a scale since then, and that was June 2013. I don’t do well with numbers so I don’t do them until it is necessary – in my case during comp prep at about 12 weeks out from the big day.

 

Yes, I realise that weighing is a good tracking tool however it’s isn’t a good tool for Kirsten. I know her quite well these days she doesn’t do well with scale numbers. So I track with photos and they are as clear as a bell to me in what is needed and what is going great. I also have a fabulous and honest husband whose opinion is one that I value immensely. Maybe I use him as my scales!!

 

b.    I do not pore over photos of super lean, muscly women. I admire the ones I see, I strive to be like some of them – but I do not sit there obsessing over what they have, how lean they are, how gorgeous they look and why I aren’t anywhere near them. That would be like grabbing the latest vogue magazine and crying at how little I look like the cover model. Laughable.

 

c.     I do not enter into random conversations about my weight with just anyone. I do not allow negative and ill-informed opinions into my sphere of life. Ever noticed how dangerous those conversations can get? For all concerned?

 

d.    And lastly, I try very hard not to let the whole thing run my life. I fail at this some days. Sure it’s a hugely important part of my life but these days it ticks along just nicely without much fuss. I am hugely grateful for having a job that I love, a family that I adore and a house that needs cleaning constantly!!!!

2014 is definitely the year of the No-Scales and I’m loving every minute of it!