Muscular Women Are Gross

“Muscular women are gross”. That seems to be the consensus of average women when they see a picture of a female bodybuilder. Don’t get me wrong, I have no desire to workout until my traps bulge or my biceps don’t fit into my shirt sleeves, but there’s a two-fold reason for that:

  1. It’s not an image I’m striving for, and I don’t think it would suit me. Just as I don’t think blue hair or facial piercings would suit me.  But, to each their own!
  2. I’ve only just taught myself enough dedication to get my ass into the gym regularly. I don’t have NEARLY the willpower to push myself into a bodybuilder’s physique. That requires a very strict diet and an excruciatingly rigorous workout routine (and sometimes often, steroids). I just don’t have that in me!

However, my inability and lack of desire to achieve that physique is not a ticket to condemn those who do! Yet that seems to be the norm. Whenever I see a picture of an especially muscular women, it doesn’t take much to find comments along the lines of “that’s gross”, “ew she looks like a dude”, and “is that even a woman???”. Why?? Women so quick to fly their feminism flag when someone belittles a woman for being overweight, but the same people are content to hound a fellow lady who happens to like being muscular. How does this logic make sense? Take a look at this:

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I intentionally didn’t blur names. One, these comments were posted on a public page and are therefore public already, and two, if Miss Havlen thought this was okay to post publicly, she damn well better be prepared to stand up for it.

Miss Havlena both claims that girls shouldn’t feel the need to “give into society standards” of what women should be, while at the same time claiming that the athlete in question is “not a woman” because she doesn’t look the way women traditionally do… Could she be any more contradictory?? What defines what a woman “should” look like, but the very societal standards she’s supposedly fighting against? It’s so idiotic, it actually hurts to think about it. Let’s move on.

If you don’t know who Dana Lynn Bailey (DLB) is, she’s a female bodybuilder and co-owner of a popular fitness clothing line called Flag Nor Fail. Furthermore, she was the winner of the first ever, IFBB Women’s Physique competition in 2013. She’s an incredible athlete, but what many of her critics seem to forget, is that she’s also a woman. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think all women want to be beautiful- whatever their definition of “beautiful” happens to be. I think all women have felt insecure about one thing or another at some point, but to have someone put you down for something you’ve genuinely poured your heart into and are (justifiably) proud of, is probably the worst. Think of whatever skill or feature you’re really proud of, and imagine having scores of people tell you that you’re wrong- that thing is actually your worst feature and you’re disgusting because of it. Would that not hit right to the feels? This brings me to the Facebook post that inspired this whole discussion:

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First, a giant kudos to Dana’s husband, Rob Bailey. Any woman would be lucky to have a man that’s so supportive! We all want to know that someone has our back.

Take a look at the comment beneath the photo. “is that a woman?” How heartbreaking must that be for DLB? I’m sure she gets it all the time, but is that the kind of thing that you can ever really just ignore? She’s got to feel it.  Bravo to her amazing husband for posting this, drawing attention to the bullies, and making everyone think about how they treat others. No, this isn’t a physique I want, or even a physique that I find attractive. But DLB is a woman with feelings, and she’s someones wife, and she’s someone’s daughter. The next time you feel inclined to comment on how “gross” a muscular woman is, think about that.

Baby Got Chivalry!

A picture showed up on my Facebook feed today that gave me a good chuckle.

Brilliant! I love it.

It’s funny! But, what makes it really great are the comments that appeared because of the photo. Here’s a few of my favourites:

MY ANACONDA DON’T WANT NONE if you say no, because I respect your boundaries.

AND I’M DOWN TO GET THE FRICTION ON as long as it’s okay with you. otherwise I’m good with a movie and some tea.

SO LADIES, LADIES, IF YOU WANNA ROLL IN MY MERCEDES please let me know ahead of time so that I can plan accordingly

Bravo, Internet-goers! Bravo! As far as I can tell, this is the original link in case you’re interested. I’d love to see this become a “thing”. Sort of like the Renaissance Man Meme.

“I’m Sexy And I Know It!”

“1200 Calories” The Blog Post I Wish I’d Read In High School

I wish this had been required reading in high school. I’ve recently come to understand the points made in this post thanks to the convincing of my boyfriend, but how much stress and how many years of dieting could I have saved myself from if I had learned it sooner? SELF CONSCIOUS WOMEN OF THE WORLD, STOP SKIPPING MEALS, GET OFF THE TREADMILL, AND PICK UP SOMETHING HEAVY!

Why “Waffles and Telepathy”?

Readers often ask, “Why is your blog called, “Waffles and Telepathy”?”.

Or, at least I imagine my readers might ask that, if I had any readers.

“Waffles and Telepathy” comes from a game my friends and I used to play in high school. Whenever we met someone new, we got them to answer two questions:

“If you were offered one super power, what would you choose?”


“What is your favourite breakfast food?”

Where that second question came from, I’m really not sure, but it lead to us breaking people off into categories based on their breakfast preference, much like University students break into groups based on their major. The whole thing became even more fun once we noticed patterns about what type of people typically chose what. Of course, that later morphed into us trying to anticipate what someone would choose, before even involving them.

“What do you make of the new girl?”

“Oh, she’s a pancakes and Shapeshifter girl for sure!”

“You think so? I had her pegged as oatmeal and Mind-Control.”

So, that is where the blog name comes from. I am “Waffles and Telepathy”.