My Name is Serena & I'm a Soreness Proclaimer...

I've come to realize that I do something. What is it that I do, you ask? Make fun of people who do jazzercise? That's a given. Chirp people who use terms such as #fitfam and #gains and #swole on a regular basis? Yeah, I suppose I do that. Swear too often in these posts? Probably. Actually, I take that back. No such thing as swearing too much. Fuck, I probably don't swear enough! Well...maybe just the right amount. Anyway, it seems like there are a few things that I "do," so to speak, but these aren't the things that I'm referring to.

I'm referring to the fact that I'm guilty of being what I'm going to refer to as a Soreness Proclaimer. Yep, I'm an SPer, it seems, and of late, I've been called out hard.

First off, what is a Soreness Proclaimer? A Soreness Proclaimer is someone who never shuts up about how sore they are. You know what I'm talking about. You say hi to them at the gym and they mention that their legs are really sore. (And by "their" legs, I mean "my" legs, obviously). It's all good, greetings have been shared, you're into your workout. Partway through you cross paths again. Perhaps a little banter regarding your current session and what's proving to be difficult. And then the Soreness Proclaimer decides that they should also remind you that their legs are still really sore, like REALLY sore. Like, so sore that just bending down to grab some dumbbells is a real inconvenience. At this stage in the game, you've got a pretty good grasp of how they're feeling...they're sore. Specifically, their legs are sore. That should cover it, right?

Wrong.

You see them again as you're both exiting the gym, and the Soreness Proclaimer has a weird gait happening, walking a bit awkwardly. Before you can ask them why, even though you didn't really wonder, they offer up a brief comment about how their leg soreness is contributing to this seizure-like movement they're utilizing for transportation. And then later in the day as you're trolling Instagram, you see one of their posts, which includes a gym shot and hashtags such as, #legday #squatsfordays #sosore #cantmove #hurtssogood (In all seriousness, #squatsfordays and #legday are acceptable hashtags. Because I said so).

Everything I've just described sounds a bit ridiculous, I know. And while I may not be quite as bad as the hypothetical me that I've portrayed, I'm definitely guilty of a version of this. And to be fair, I don't mean to do it. The words just kind of jump out of my mouth, like I have no control over it. I go to move, the muscles are sore because I'm super bad-ass and smash weights like a pro, the sore muscles tell my brain that they're sore whilst impeding my movements, and the next thing you know, "fuck, I'm sore..." has escaped my ladylike mouth. It's basically science. Who am I to fuck with science?

Post #EMOTM & guess what, sore as fuck the next day...

The other day I was with Kyla and Tyra, two of my clutch #villagers and after probably the third soreness proclamation, both of the morons started chirping me about it. "Hey, do you think Serena's sore?" "Not too sure, maybe she trained legs yesterday." Well, guess what? I DID train legs, along with whatever other muscles are involved in squatting and push pressing and doing thrusters (no fucking way was I typing thrusting there...), and all of those things in copious amounts led to my legs being sore. And when I would go to move, my muscles would yell at me and call me mean names. And it just so happens that I'm a verbal person so when these things happen, words come out of my mouth. And those words often pertain to me being sore. So, yeah...I was sore and they got to hear about it. Repeatedly. And I don't even feel bad.

And if I want to think of it in a fashion that is solely designed to cater to my needs, I'll point out the fact that it's preferable for me to have become a Soreness Proclaimer than to be a Fatness Proclaimer or an Out-Of-Shape Proclaimer. I'd rather be bitching about how sore I am than be complaining about feeling super out of shape or about being fat. Granted, those complaints happen from time to time, but nowhere near as often as my Soreness Proclamations, and they come from a much less happy place. Being a Soreness Proclaimer, at least for me, has a hint of pride attached to it, knowing that I've done something that has genuinely impacted my body and because I'm 7 years old on the inside and want to play show-and-tell, I talk about it. It's a new kind of pride and I suppose there's novelty in anything shiny and new. And I think we all crave recognition and praise, in all shapes and sizes, and sometimes when we've worked really hard in the gym, we just want to make sure someone else knows about it.

So, yeah. My name is Serena & I'm a Soreness Proclaimer. And before you pass judgment, odds are pretty fucking good that you're one, too, if you're reading this blog, so shut it.