Sis gets Swole

Sis has been really into working out lately, which I fully support. It wears her out and makes her strong. Two birds, one tiny kettlebell.

She’s in her “big muscles era.” Loves them. Believes in them deeply. Flexes constantly. Will stop mid-activity to announce, “Look at my big muscles!” According to her, muscles come from pushups and effort, which is correct. The confidence, however, is wildly disproportionate to the technique.

Her pushups look less like pushups and more like enthusiastic hip thrusts. Still counts. Strength is happening. Form is a future problem.

This phase led us to kid Tabata workout videos on YouTube. They’re honestly adorable. Bright colors, cute animals, and four minutes long. I looked at the screen and thought, yeah, I can absolutely handle this. I haul laundry up and down stairs all day. I lift children. I catch flying objects. I run, jump, dance- My life is movement.

Turns out those videos work muscles that daily chaos does not. By minute three, I’m sweating… real sweat, while Sis is cruising.

Bubs is right there with us. His pushups are fully snake-based. Chest down first, whole body follows. Zero shame, maximum commitment. Mine aren’t much better… Knees on the ground, arms barely bending. Upper body strength? Embarrassing.

Nobody cares. Sis isn’t watching my form. Bubs isn’t counting reps. In their eyes, we’re all doing pushups together. Trying, breathing hard, existing on the floor.

She’s building muscles. He’s perfecting snake technique. I’m being humbled by a cartoon workout with a gorilla. Everybody’s doing great.