The other day, just before I went away for the weekend I bumped into the potentially caber-tossing Mediterranean (I need a nickname for him... I was thinking Hamishopoulos, but am open to suggestions) at the gym and he showed me upright barbell rows. I was doing the lift and he was explaining to me how it was good for developing my shoulders and he poked at me to illustrate some point. The he recoiled and said, "Your shoulders are hard! I wasn't expecting that." I told him to poke some more to make sure he wasn't just jabbing some bone, but he confirmed it was muscle.
Of course, I take this as a compliment and I'm all delighted, but today I was thinking about it and had to laugh at myself. I'm all excited over the most minute of compliments, but really, these are infinitesimally small baby steps. You take a look at some of the other weightlifting women on the internet posting photos of their gorgeous bods, and you come to realise my weenie little boasts are the product of a pathetic mind grappling for some affirmation.
That said, I'm not discouraged. I admire the women I'm looking at, in a large part because in most cases it's not their job to lift and look awesome. It gives me hope that in a year or two I won't be sporting a jello belly and I can wear a bathing suit without embarrassment.
This might be vain hope, given that I eat too much, drink too much, and sleep too little; but there's still some hope. It's pretty awesome, really.