as someone who has to draw everyday, or else I forget how to draw, repetitive strain injuries are bound to happen but damn I didn’t know long it was gonna take to heal 😭 I have to take like a 2-3 week hiatus and if it doesn’t get better after that I have to take a few months off which makes me so nervous n upset

Scottish Highlands, 1932 AD

He awoke in a cold sweat, feeling chilled to the bone, gasping at the musty, cloying air.

A dream. A dream. Nothing but a dream.

In panic, he grabbed at his arms, hugging himself. Flesh. No scales. Sweat beading on his brow and dripping, stinging, into his eyes. Snakes don’t sweat, he reminded himself.

A dream, just like the others, it wasn’t real, and it couldn’t hur-

His eyes flashed open. Aziraphale! He threw out his consciousness, rapidly, overstretching painfully, but he didn’t care. What if- what if- what if-

There he was. In his bookshop, an aura of worry around him, but no harm.

Crowley fell back into bed, exhausted. A dream. Just a dream. No harm done.

No more sleeping then. He wouldn’t do that again. Even if he was too exhausted to think right now, sleeping wouldn’t do any good. It was time to go home.

Groaning, Crowley pushed himself upright, stretching and sniffing at the dark around him. The same damp, dark earth, sealed off from the world, just as he’d intended. He groaned. He had no idea how long he’d slept.

With effort and stiff joints, he went to the door of his hovel and pushed. Nothing. He grimaced. Not a good sign. Grunting, he miracled it open, only to find the hinges had rusted off, and a layer of earth had accumulated before the door, moldering into the surrounding landscape.

The door fell outward with a dull thud, and, cautiously, Crowley peered out, tasting the air. The same scents as when he’d gone to sleep. Wind and waves and stone and sheep dung. Lots of sheep dung.

His hair had grown long and ungainly while he slept, spilling out behind him in a great red carpet, dragging on the ground behind him. He couldn’t be bothered, yet. Before he got back into civilization, he’d need a proper haircut, but for now, maybe he’d stride up to the top of the hill, have a look around, get his bearings. See if that little farmhouse wasn’t still-

“Stop!” Came a high voice, with a thick Scottish accent, and Crowley nearly jumped out of his skin.

Looking up, he spied a young girl, maybe in her early teens, scrawny and fierce and holding a shepherd’s crook like a baton. He needed a coffee, at least, before he could deal with this.

“Er. Hello.” Crowley managed, lamely.

“Is that all you’ve got to say for yourself? You just came outta the hill!”

“Yes. Well. I’m a bit lost,” Crowley was not prepared for this situation.

“Well I should hope so!” The girl laughed then, a bit nervously, and Crowley offered a weak smile in return. She tilted her head and looked at him, up and down. “Yer not gonna hurt me, are ya?”

Crowley shrugged, “Wasn’t planning on it.”

“Alright then. You got no weapons, you sure as hell look skinny enough, and God knows you clearly haven’t got all yer wits about you,” she gestured vaguely, to his unkempt hair falling down his shoulders and trailing behind, and to his clothes, once fine, now not much more than rags of wool and leather.

She strode down the hill, wild hair flying in the wind, and seemed to study him as if he were an exhibit.

He looked around for clues, anything, that might give him even the faintest idea of when he was. There was a tug on his scalp, and he looked down to see a sheep taking a cautious bite of his hair, lying as it were, all over the ground. “Oy! Watch it!” he yelled, jumping back.

“Oy!” the girl yelled back, nearly at him now, “That’s MY sheep, you better watch it!”

“Teach your damned sheep to behave, then.”

She laughed again, “I take it you’ve never been a herder then, mister.”

“Not recently, no.”

She narrowed her eyes, still studying him. “Well, that’s all there is in these parts. What did you say your name was…”

“I didn’t. But. Anthony.” Crowley straightened from shooing off the sheep and stood, hair bundled in his arms, glancing around for any sign of civilization.

“I’m Mary. Not that you asked,” she replied, a bit petulantly.

“Great. Er. Mary. Could you please tell me where I might buy a horse?” Of course this damned girl had to be here now, when he could have just peacefully miracled himself somewhere tolerable. Maybe it was for the best. His head was already killing him from seeking out Aziraphale, the growing thudding in his temples warning him not to do any more miracles for at least a few days. He rubbed at them, irritated, thinking of how he’d have to get a horse, ride to the port, and charter some kind of ship, only to hop a train if he was lucky, and then still have-

Mary interjected. She, at least, was a sharp one. “Listen, mister, are you sure you’re well?”

Crowley waved her off with as much nonchalance as he could manage, “Yes, yes. Just need a horse.”

“Well, let’s get you somewhere less windy, and we can see about that horse, alright?” Crowley didn’t miss the concerned tone in her voice, the pity there. He supposed he must look a wreck, although he couldn’t help but curl the slightest smile at how the tables had turned, with him and these humans. Mary was still talking, and had lowered her crook, and offered it before her. “To help you walk, Mister Anthony. That’s an odd name, isn’t it? What’s it?”

“Italian.” Crowley grunted, pretending not to hear the bit about helping him walk, and straightening up with as much dignity as he could muster. Leonardo had given him that one. Well, Antony. Crowley did allow himself a bit of modernization. A bit odd this far north, for sure, but Crowley was never one to refuse a gift, especially a gift of a name.

Mary stunned him from his thoughts, chirping, “I’ll take you to Pa, he’ll at least know where to send you.”

Crowley felt older than he had in a long time. Leonardo, those warm Florentine nights, were a thousand miles and five hundred years away. He needed to get back to reality. “What-“ Crowley cleared his throat, “What year is it?”

“You really are mad, aren’t’cha?” Mary stuck her hands on her hips and looked down the bridge of her nose at him. “It’s 1932, you daft bastard.”

“Right-“ Crowley muttered, but it felt as though he had swallowed a brick. How long was that, then? Nearly seventy years. Fuck. He’d overslept.

“How in the hell did you get out here, anyways?” Mary was still talking, but at least she was leading him somewhere now, “Nobody’s ere we don’t know and, it looks like you’ve been here at least a while.”

“Wanted to get away from London for a bit,” Crowley mumbled, ignoring the jibe about his appearance.

Mary laughed then, out loud, “Well I damn well say you succeeded! You’re about as far as you can get from London, except maybe Ireland.”

“Can’t-can’t do Ireland. Not since that Patrick bloke went muddling around and-“

Mary wasn’t listening, and Crowley trailed off. No point telling the truth anyway. Besides, his headache was strengthening with each step, and talking only made it worse. 

So he simply trailed along behind her, lacking, for the moment, a better plan, and desperately looking about for any clues as to what might have happened in the last seventy years. Christ. (He felt at least entitled to that swear, after he’d gotten to know the kid so well.) Of course he’d been brilliant enough to throw himself all the way out here for a nap. At this point he could’ve slept through the rapture and not known it. And, from what he could tell, Mary wasn’t much of an indicator in that department.

They soon reached a run down sort of sod and thatch dwelling, with a few cows and a whole lot of sheep milling around outside. Crowley supposed this must be the farmhouse. He eyed the cows dubiously. Surely there had to be a horse here somewhere. Maybe he’d whore out, finally, offer them a perfect lambing season, cure their sick, or some other such nonsense, in exchange for a horse. His mouth ticked upwards. Aziraphale would love that. A miracle, a miracle, any miracle for a horse!

“Pa!” Mary yelled towards the house, “Broughtcha a present!”

From round the dwelling came a gruff looking man, poorly shaven, already yelling back, “Mary, what fool thing have you done no-“ but he stopped dead when his eyes fell on Crowley, and his mouth fell open.

Crowley took advantage of this opportunity, and pressed. “Have you got a horse? I’m willing to trade!”

The man ignored him, instead shouting at his daughter again, “What in the damned hells have you brought me?”

“Dunno!” She called back as they approached, “But he’s awful skinny, and can’t stay warm long in those rags.”

The man sighed, and rubbed a worn hand over his face, tiredly. “Well, he’d best come in at least.”

The interior of the house was sparse but homey, with wooden furniture worn smooth by years, and a small fire crackling in the corner. With far more reasonable suspicion than his daughter, the man settled heavily at the table, and motioned wearily for Crowley to take a seat across from him.

“Alright then. So what’s your story, Mr…?”

“Crowley,” Crowley supplied, glancing around the home, hands fidgeting nervously on the table before him, “Really, you needn’t trouble yourself. I just need a horse to ride back south. I’ve got money, I’ll pay.”

The rugged man raised his eyebrows, looking at Crowley’s ragged clothes and train of hair, “I think you’ll pardon me, Mr. Crowley, if I doubt that for the time being.”

Crowley sighed. He supposed that was fair enough. Looks like he’d be walking then. He placed his hands flat on the table before him to stand to go, “Can’t say I blame you, but I don’t care to trouble you any longer. I’ll be going, the-“

“Wait.” The man’s attitude had changed suddenly, staring at Crowley’s hands, splayed out on the table. Crowley nearly cursed. The dratted things had taken to a tremor, and now the fingers each trembled, visibly. The man must have seen his grimace, because he held up his own hand, and Crowley saw, much more subtle, but still there, a slight vibration. “No need to be embarrassed. Plenty of soldiers down on their luck after Europe spat us back.”

Crowley stood still as a snake, hardly daring to move, eyes locked on the man’s.

“You fought in the war?” the man prompted, more gently.

The War. It haunted his dreams, still, holy water, falling like rain, melting those it struck, fire arcing across the sky, everywhere the scent of burnt wings and ichor, and amidst it all, two hands, intertwined. And then not.

His face must have betrayed his emotion, because the man patted the table to indicate he sit back down, and, cautiously, Crowley did. “My home is home for any who fought, and doubly for who came back with shell shock. I’ve no idea where you’ve come from, but it hardly matters now. What matters is, have you got anyone to go home to?”

Crowley met the man’s eyes, gentler now, and licked his lips nervously. “Yes, I do.”

“Well. That’s settled then,” and the man turned to Mary, who had been standing, stock still and wide eyed in the corner, “Take him down to the post office at least, they should be able to get him further south from there. Did he say where he’s from?”

“London,” Mary said, a bit sheepishly, looking at Crowley with eyes wide as saucers.

“Right then. Better get a move on.” The man stuck a thick arm out towards Crowley, and grabbed his hand, warmly, “I hope you find who you’re looking for.”

Crowley hoped so too. ______________ This is an excerpt of my slow burn fic (currently at 45k), The Sun Will Rise and We Will Try Again, about Crowley’s trauma and Aziraphale and him overcoming it together. Couldn’t resist adding it since I’d already made the St. Patrick’s day joke. Check out the full fic here!

Binding with TransTape/KT tape (Open chest binding)

Lee and Kai say:

We have been receiving some asks about binding with tape recently, and so we’ve decided to post our blog’s opinions on it: 

We have heard of people getting skin irritations or sores from either wearing it too long or from removing it, but we don’t know as much about ribs and breathing and such. We think it can still damage the ribs because it stops being elastic when stretched to a certain point, especially if it’s wrapped around fully. It seems it would stretch the skin more than binding and make your skin less elastic possibly, and having tape on the same parts of the skin for a long time is not a good idea because it can damage the skin. Basically, there are a lot of unknowns- there isn’t much research on it yet, so we can’t say for sure it’s safer to bind with a traditional binder or not

Tape binding also seems like it would only work with small-chested folks, and folks with a bigger chest would probably find binding with a binder to be more effective.

Over time, tape binding would be less cost-effective than binding because you have to keep buying somewhat expensive tape while you can use a binder for years if you take care of it.

The other issue is you’re supposed to follow the same safe binding guidelines when tape binding as you do with binding with a binder- but the website wrote “TransTape was intended for multiple day use and can be worn up to 5 days depending on your level of activity and how often you are showering.” 

Generally speaking, you shouldn’t be sleeping while binding or binding 24/7 because you need to give your body a rest. So the way the product is supposed to be used (binding for a week without any breaks) is inherently unsafe.

Overall, we recommend binding with a binder over binding with tape. Our Binding FAQ has info on safe binding with a binder and How to buy a binder without parents knowing.

If you decide to try tape binding, here’s some info/tips:

Do not use duct tape or packing tape, only use tape meant for the body like KT Tape or TransTape. If the tape you’re using is causing skin problems, it’s possible it doesn’t have a type of adhesive that is body-safe.

Info from a company rep on tips to reduce irritation when using KT Tape regularly on sensitive skin on the chest

General do’s and dont’s of binding with KT tape

Warning: picture of irritated skin & blisters from using KT tape and not removing it properly

A picture of someone binding with KT tape to show how it’s done

A blogger’s opinions on the pros and cons of tape binding

Warning from a trans nurse on Trans Tape binding, and another

Trans Tape’s website: How to: Minimize Skin Irritation

Here is another good post about trans tape binding to check out!

KT Tape info from r/ftm:

KT Tape Megathread

“An alternative to using a binder is KT Tape, or kinesthetic tape, which is tape that is meant to be adhered to your skin to provide joint support to athletes. It comes in a roll of pre-cut strips for around $12, although there are generic brands that cost less. The primary benefit of binding with KT Tape is that it does not constrict your chest at all and can be left on for a few days at a time, so it's really comfortable and you can put it on and forget about it for a while. It is okay to swim or shower with.

Here (NSFW) is a visual guide on how it is applied, as well as some written instructions. The gist of how you use it is as follows:

Cut the strips in half (so you have two shorter pieces) to conserve them.

Cover your nipples with a bandaid, gauze, etc. to protect them.

Place the leading edge of the tape on the front of your chest, near or over your nipple.

Stretch everything back and to the side, under your armpit, and adhere the tape.

Rub the tape to activate the adhesives.

You may need to use more than one strip to get flat enough.

It is most effective for people with smaller chests (C cup and smaller, and C cup is iffy). The bigger your chest, the more tape you will need to use--but only to a certain point.

The primary complaint people have in terms of comfort with KT Tape is that the adhesives can irritate your skin, and it can be difficult to remove and take some skin with it. Here are some tips to help mitigate that:

Soak the tape in oil (baby oil, olive oil, vegetable oil, etc) for about 10 minutes before removing.

Take the tape off in the shower, preferably after soaking with oil.

The manufacturer recommends applying milk of magnesia to your skin before putting the tape on to minimize irritation.

/End quote from r/ftm”

Jay says:

I wouldn’t recommend binding with tape. Frequent use of KT tape (which is all trans tape is) can damage the skin. A lot of people believe that because the tape stretches, it’s safe. I disagree. For this tape to actually bind, you have to stretch it out too far. It becomes stiff and doesn’t “give” enough, and overstretched tape is very bad for the skin. Rashes are probably the best case scenario tbh, because the adhesive can be irritating to the sensitive skin on the chest. If the tape isn’t applied basically perfectly, you could get blistering, scarring, and skin breakdown.

A big issue that I have with trans tape specifically is that the creator of it is not a medical professional or anything. He saw that some people could bind with KT tape so he had a wider version made that would be easier to use for binding. I don’t trust any of his advice about how to apply or remove the tape, or how to protect the skin or what to do if you’re hurt. Some of what he suggested with the tape and skin protection and all (at least from what I remember from the last time I saw the website) is the exact opposite of what medical professionals have told me. Since he’s not a medical professional and knowing what I know about this kind of tape I don’t really believe much of what they say about the safety and all of the tape. My old physical therapist who used to tape my shoulders also told me that putting it on the chest wasn’t a great idea.

There’s no research or anything about this though, so we have is anecdotal evidence.

Here are a couple of things I’d suggest:

Whether they use KT or trans tape, they should stretch it maybe 2/3 of the way out. A lot of people will stretch it as far as it goes, but if it won’t “give” more once it’s on it’s as bad as duct tape.

Don’t put tape on any irritated or injured skin. At all, ever.

Open wounds, blisters, or irritation that’s being stubborn and not going away should be looked at by a doctor.

Take breaks. I honestly wouldn’t suggest wearing it for more than a couple of days per week.

Sleeping in it isn’t ideal, despite what the trans tape people say. Like I said, if it’s stretched all the way out (how most people seem to wear it), sleeping in it can cause damage over time.

Kii says:

Personally, while I know TransTape has its risks, which you should definitely do your own research on, I’ve found that’s personally the only somewhat comfortable way for me to bind, so I would definitely encourage you to try out different binding methods, because if you have chronic pain, you might find some methods of binding easier than others.

Followers say:

Anon said: Hey! I highly recommend not using or suggesting KT tape to people for binding. I used it twice before and both times it made me bleed... I don't have sensitive skin or anything either. I really would never reccomend this method for anyone. (B cup, Pre T)

theconn-man said: ive haf a similar problem w KT Tape!!!! I didnt bleed but it ripped my skin off, even working it off in the shower with warm water and soap. i'm a B cup as well. I had what looked like a rash for the next few days and irritation

cane-diamour said: I’ve had sports tape on my knee, which is probably less sensitive than the chest area, but it does hurt a ton to take it off dry. I also have a slight allergy to latex adhesive (think bandaid glue), so it did cause some irritation. Be sure to not leave it on for a long time, and take it off slowly.

meanwhilemisha22 said: Im no expert but Ive heard trans/kt tape can ruin your rib cage

demiiboy said: I tried using KT tape in the way that you're supposed to and it triggered the same rib problems that binding does for me

Hey, I wanted to say that your art is really cool and I want to ask if you have some tips and/or tricks to draw sans and papyrus, because I really struggle to draw them, and you draw them so good so I thought I might ask you! (And sorry if my english is bad, I'm not english native)

(don’t worry friend, I think you’re English is really good, wouldn’t have even known it wasn’t your native language if you hadn’t pointed it out :D)

I’ve never really helped anyone with this kind of thing, but I’ll try to help if I can! Forgive me if this doesn’t turn out to be what you’re looking for!

- First things first, know what you’re drawing! I know it probably seems a little silly to say this but, try looking at pictures of skeletons. Getting a good understanding of the human bone structure, how parts move and work, what sets where and why - it may not seem important but it really is in all honesty! Like for instance the bones in your arms, the radius, and ulna. We know that generally, they look like this: 

But when you twist your arm around, it looks like this. 

This is just one of the many things that could be essential to drawing the Skelebaes. It may seem unimportant because they are monsters, and if you’d like you can always just draw them the way you’d like without structure - but I’d still recommend just having some knowledge on it. 

- Don’t shy away from help. I’m not talking the whole constructive-criticism thing (though that does help a lot) I’m talking about more self-study. Watch streams, or speed-paints, or read tutorials on how people draw their characters - maybe just look at one of you’re favored artist’s pictures! By taking note of the things that you like about other’s pictures and putting elements of that into you’re own work - you work towards a more comfortable style of drawing and you’re own unique art style. Just the way people impact people, other people’s art is going to impact your own - so don’t shy away from that. And by this I don’t mean copy their work and post it without permission, just try feeling out how you want to draw your versions of Sans and Papyrus by using others as a little inspiration. 

- Don’t be afraid to stretch the boundaries when it comes to drawing the boys. Especially with Papyrus. He’s particularly expressive in game, so don’t be afraid to make things about him more… Just more. Make his eyes bulge, give him sparkles, make his jaw bone drop! It’s important to convey the feeling and personality of the character you’re drawing - so use things like raised or hunched shoulders, wide eyes, thinned ‘lips’ and so on to make them show what they are feeling.

- And the last thing I have to say is practice. I know everyone and their dog says that, but its true. Seriously if you look at the sans stuff I was drawing… let’s see when did I first draw him. 

(oh my god I forgot how long I’ve been a closet nerd about Undertale)

But seriously, if you look how I drew him then, versus now you’ll see the jump. That’s thanks to a lot of practice!

(September 15th, 2016)

(October 25th, 2017)

Can’t really stress it enough - practice the hell out of your drawing! It may take some time, but eventually, you’ll get to a comfortable and consistent style. And boy howdy does it feel good to get there.  

I don’t know if this is enough, I don’t want to overstretch my bounds with this and tell you how to do your art - because speaking from experience sometimes you just have to feel your way through drawing until you get where you want to be. The most important thing to me is that you have fun, so draw what you want to draw the way you want to draw it! I’ve given you the basics and essentials of how I draw these guys, and I hope it aids you well! Sorry if it wasn’t enough, if you want me to tell or teach your specifics things just pop an ask in my inbox and I’ll answer you as soon as I can!

The first step is admitting you have a problem...

“If you’re spending more than five minutes a day obsessing over anxiety, it’s becoming a problem.”

Damn, Ms. Bear has a way with words. Though things have been tense what with coronavirus, home schooling the kids, teaching a freshman class, working remotely, and both of us taking doctoral classes, I hadn’t really acknowledged to myself how much my anxiety was becoming a problem until she sat down to talk to me about it after I went to her for the fourth (by my count) confirmation that I wasn’t dying today.

While I haven’t had what I would call a panic attack lately, she reminded me that panic attacks are different from anxiety attacks and damn skippy if that isn’t what I’ve been feeling all day, or as she put it “you’ve been having an anxiety attack filled month”. How else to describe this thought that any tension or twinge I feel in my chest is heart related even though I have 0 medical history that would indicate a heart problem? What else is obsessing over every little ache and pain (a ridiculous notion because I’m also currently undergoing physical therapy for my neck, so back and chest soreness is kind of just part of the process of getting better0?

As Ms. Bear put it, “You obsess over whatever it is you think is wrong with you, then you obsess over the solution, then you find something new to worry about.”

Darn if that hasn’t pretty much been the way I’ve been the past six months. It’s not necessarily surprising that my mental health is flagging - everyone is under stress with the pandemic - but I hadn’t really considered how insidiously it had crept into my everyday life, which is surprising because for a couple days I’ve really been down and low-energy because hey, worrying takes a lot of energy! 

(Which leads an anxious mind to speculate if I’m low on energy because something’s wrong with you, and...  hey, I know it sounds like a broken record at that point, but that’s the way my mind has been all this month.) Graduate classes? Crazy (I love them) cubs? Little kid-watching outside support available due to Coronavirus?

Naw, you can’t be tired because of all that, it’s got to be something wrong with you! Fortunately, you just read an article that says that your risk of heart issues is way lower if you’re flexible, so let’s touch your toes to confirm you can do it. Hey, let’s do that again. Now let’s stretch even further! And further!

Ow. Why does the space below my ribs hurt now? Something must be seriously wrong! (Of course something is seriously wrong, you just overstretched yourself and now those upper abdominal and chest muscles/ligaments/whatever are really sore, dumbass!)

I’m mostly writing this section of my internal conversation to get it out, and sometimes when I get it out the rest of me can see how ridiculous it is and I feel better. Perhaps, tumblr randos, it will also help you if you have an anxiety attack similar in nature to mine. You’re not alone, and trust your doctors and loved ones if you have them. This anxiety can be overcome - we just need to seek out some help to do it.

Anyway, my wife convinced me to talk to my doctor about it. Maybe my meds aren’t working as well as they’re supposed to. Body, mind, and soul have carried me through this stressor of a semester, but I’d better do something now to take care of it.

God, I’m glad I married such a wise woman.  

The Embarrassed PA

New story about a male PA with delusions of grandeur who ends up utterly humiliating himself! Kirk Welling was the CEO of a multi-national corporation that kept his bank account in 10 digits at least. He was arrogant, disrespectful and incredibly good at what he did. During his twenty years in business, he had had a multitude of personal assistants as he often reduced them to tears or sent them into a black hole of depression. Liam Wessex was his most recent PA and Liam had taken the job, despite the many warnings from the Recruitment Agencies. Liam wanted to learn how Kirk did it because he wanted to be rich and successful. He wasn’t the crying type and nothing had ever caused him to even consider being depressed. Even if Kirk was a harsh boss, he was convinced that he would learn a lot and the benefits would come over time. Liam had been doing the job for just over a year and was the longest standing PA that Kirk had ever had. Liam was in his late twenties and was the office heart throb. Aside from his toned, muscular body, he had the kind of dashing good looks that made most of the women (and some of the men) melt when he smiled. ‘Liam, I see my appointments are a little sparse today?’ Liam nodded as he sat across from Kirk in the gigantic office on the top floor of Welling and Hummel Industries. ‘Yes, Sir. I remembered that you had the awards function this evening, so I made sure that you wouldn’t be too overstretched during the day.’ Kirk inclined his head, which was the closest Liam ever got to a thank you. Kirk was in his mid-forties and was an exceptionally good looking man. He was the same height as Liam at 5’11, but with a slightly slimmer build. ‘I need you to pick up my tux and my grey suit from the dry cleaners, pick up my new shoes from Hugo Boss and drop them off at the house. There’s a stack of papers that need filing in my home office and then I’ll be back mid-afternoon to change. Have you booked the chopper for this evening?’ ‘Yes, Sir! It will pick you up at 5pm promptly.’ ‘That will be all. Ensure you are careful with the dry cleaning. That grey suit is my favourite and I would hate to fire you over a ruined suit.’ Liam forced himself not to roll his eyes as he nodded and left the office. After working for Kirk for over a year, Liam had hoped that he’d see some sort of pay increase, but there had been none. He was still wearing cheap suits from Walmart and dress shoes that were faux leather, instead of the real thing. He longed to wear designer suits so he could show everyone how successful he was, even if he was just a PA. Liam jumped into his Toyota and headed downtown to Kirk’s dry cleaners, who assured him that the tux and the suit had been done exactly to Kirk’s instructions, as always. He then headed to Hugo Boss, where he forced himself not to look at anything as he collected Kirk’s new shoes, a beautiful pair of black leather lace ups. As Liam pulled through the ornate metal gates that fronted Kirk’s house, he couldn’t help but feel a tad resentful that he was running around picking up shoes from Hugo Boss when he was more than qualified to be the one wearing them. After disabling the alarm, Liam carried the suits and the shoes up to Kirk’s dressing room. He hung the grey suit on a wardrobe door, whilst he unpacked the tux. He hung the jacket and the pants on separate hangers on the front of a double wardrobe, before gently laying out the crisp wing collar shirt. He placed the bowtie and cummerbund on top of one of the dressers, along with a pair of crisp white cotton boxer shorts and a pair of OTC socks. ‘One day I’ll own this stuff,’ Liam said to himself with a sigh. With the tux laid out, Liam took the grey suit down that he’d hung up and opened the wardrobe it lived in. He was just about to put it away when he had a sudden idea. Kirk wouldn’t be home for a good couple of hours and there was no harm in him trying on the grey jacket. He’d never worn an Armani jacket before and it would only be for a few minutes. After checking the time and seeing that it was just after 12, Liam unzipped the suit cover and pulled out the light grey jacket. Kirk was slimmer than him but not by much. Liam pulled off his own jacket, revealing his cheap, white Walmart shirt. He tossed his jacket on the floor and eagerly grabbed hold of Kirk’s Armani one, which he pulled on with a little struggle due to the narrower tailoring than Liam would have needed if it was his. He moved over to one of the full length mirrors and grinned at his reflection. The jacket was tight, but it was beautiful; light grey with a beautiful black satin lining. The only thing that looked off was the rest of his outfit. ‘It couldn’t hurt,’ Liam said as he started to unfasten the button on his black polyester pants. Within seconds, Liam had removed his pants to reveal his off white Hanes briefs. They did nothing for his toned physique. They didn’t fit properly and made his firm bubble butt look flat. ‘Maybe I could just . . .’ With a mischievous grin, Liam pulled down his briefs and dashed across the room to the dresser that contained Kirk’s underwear. Kirk had more underwear than any one person needed and Liam had always wanted to try on one of his pairs of slinky silk briefs. After rifling through a couple of drawers, Liam pulled out a pair of bikini cut black silk briefs that were covered in pink polka dots. He stepped into them and pulled them as far as his knees, before having to push his muscular thighs close together to wrestle the briefs the rest of the way up. The briefs were far too tight on him and the silk stretched impressively over his rounded butt, as well as making his ample bulge look more than a little prominent. ‘Damn, these are hot,’ Liam said aloud as he rubbed his hand over his silk clad bulge. He could feel himself starting to get erect, so quickly stopped rubbing and grabbed the Armani pants from the hanger. ‘Wait,’ he said to himself as he returned to the underwear dresser. If he was going to dress up, he wanted to do it properly, so he grabbed a pair of garters and a pair of black sheer socks and set about putting them on. The garters had to be loosened slightly and the socks were a little big in the foot, but he couldn’t help but admire how amazing his calves looked in them. With that Liam pulled on the grey Armani pants. As with the silk briefs, by the time he got them around his muscular thighs, the task became something of a struggle. It wasn’t helped by the fact that all of the movement in the silk briefs made him harder by the second. By the time he managed to get the pants over his butt, he had to wrestle his throbbing silk clad cock inside, which made them even harder to zip and button. Liam checked himself in the mirror and frowned at his reflection. Even though the pants were tight, they made his thighs and his ass look amazing, but his cheap white shirt was spoiling the look. ‘May as well go the whole way.’ Liam went over to one of the wardrobes and pulled out one of Kirk’s shirts. It was a black silk Gucci shirt that felt like heaven as Liam discarded his own shirt and pulled it on. It was too tight all over and the buttons strained as he fought to do them, but once he’d managed to tuck the shirt in, he couldn’t deny that he looked hot. Once he pulled the jacket on, the look was complete except for the shoes. Without a moment’s thought, Liam pulled the lid from the box that contained Kirk’s new Hugo Boss shoes. He removed each shoe from its little bag before sitting down and pulling each shoe on. They looked untidy with the laces done up, so he just tucked them inside The shoes were a size bigger than he wore, but when he saw the finished look in the mirror, he didn’t care. It was then that his phone went off and he grabbed it from the dresser. ‘Hello, sir.’ ‘Liam, I’ve just had a call regarding some important documents I need. Someone tried to deliver them this morning to the house, but no one was there. I need them for first thing in the morning, but the office they’ve gone to closes at 1:30.’ Liam checked the time on his phone and saw that it was nearly 1 already. ‘I need you to go and pick them up now. If you leave now, you should just make it. I have asked them to wait, but they can’t promise me that someone will be there after 1:30. Don’t let me down.’ Before Liam could speak, Kirk hung up and then an email came through with the address. The office was downtown and it would easily take 25 minutes to get there without any hold ups. He’d never make it if he changed first, so confident that he could get there and back with time to spare to change, he decided to go wearing Kirk’s clothes and shoes. With the slightly oversized shoes, Liam couldn’t walk as quickly as he liked and it was a bit of a struggle getting in to his car wearing such a tight outfit, but he didn’t care. He looked hot and he was finally wearing the designer clothes he thought he deserved. It took 26 minutes to get to the office and park up and Liam had to practically run to get to the building from the parking lot. By the time he got into the atrium, sweat was starting to make the silk shirt stick to his chest and back even more than it already was. ‘Which floor is Doc Express?’ Liam asked the receptionist, who batted her eyes and grinned at him. ‘10th floor.’ ‘Thanks,’ Liam said with a smile before dashing over to the elevator. The building seemed to be fairly quiet and he noticed that a number of the floors seemed to be empty as the elevator ascended. The doors opened on the 10th floor and Liam dashed over to the small reception area where a man was just packing up his things. ‘I’m here to pick up some documents for Kirk Welling,’ Liam said, his forehead glistening with sweat. ‘I was just leaving, but I kept them out for you.’ The man handed the documents over with a sigh and Liam gratefully took the manila envelope, before signing the clipboard that the man handed over. ‘Thank you so much,’ Liam said before turning around and pressing the call button for the elevator. He looked at the numbers above the doors and was disheartened to see that both were in the basement. ‘You’ll be waiting a while,’ the man said as he disappeared through the doors to the stairwell. Conscious of not getting back to the house before Kirk, Liam waited another couple of minutes, but neither of the elevators changed floor. ‘Damn it,’ he said and pushed open the door to the stairwell, which was 3 sets of steps between each floor. As he leaned over the bannister to see the long way down, Liam accidentally caught the heel of his right shoe on the edge of the landing. With the shoe so loose, it easily flicked off of his foot and fell through the gap between the staircases, crashing to the basement floor with a loud thud. ‘Oh great,’ he cursed and started the long walk down to the basement, which he did as fast as he could in his restrictive outfit. By the time he reached the basement, he was relieved that the shoe looked unscathed, but he was now sweating even more than before and he could feel the moisture all over his body. Being careful of the tight trousers, Liam tried to bend forward and get the shoe, but the material of the suit pants stretched so tightly that he started to worry that they’d rip. He tried just sliding his foot into the shoe, but it kept flicking on to its side. Deciding he had no choice, Liam carefully bent forward, hoping that a slow approach would save the trousers. His fingers grabbed the glossy leather of the discarded shoe, but just as he did so, several of the buttons on the silk shirt burst off and scattered to the floor. Liam gasped as he looked down and saw that the shirt only had 2 buttons left; one at the top of his stomach and one above his chest. There was also defined white lines from his sweat. The shirt was ruined. Without any time to worry about it, Liam managed to get the shoe on and headed back up to the ground floor and outside to be met with torrential rain. Unamused by his bad luck, Liam ran through the downpour to his car after tucking the manila envelope inside his jacket. He unlocked the car and tossed the envelope on to the passenger seat, but as he did so, the envelope missed the passenger seat and fell through the gap into the back, where it landed in the rear passenger foot well. Liam walked around the side of the car and threw open the door, the suit now sodden from the rain. He bent down to grab the envelope from the foot well, but immediately felt the tight pull of the strained material of his suit pants. Desperate not to rip them, he decided he only had one option if he was going to be able to pick up the envelope. With a huge sigh, Liam unbuttoned the pants and pulled down the zipper and with somewhat of a struggle, he pushed them to his knees, revealing the sweaty silk briefs that were stretched taught across his ample butt. Without the restriction of the pants, Liam bent down to grab the envelope, but as he did so, there was a loud RRRIIIIPPPPPP as the silk briefs tore open. They ripped from the waistband down the rear seam to the crotch, as well as shredding open at either side. As Liam stood up, the exhausted piece of material just hung down between his legs, exposing his beefy butt and sizeable package. ‘No, No, No,’ he said as he tried to pull the material together, but all he succeeded in doing was pulling them away from his body completely, leaving himself completely exposed. With the realisation that he was now flashing a car park, Liam grabbed the waistband of the pants and started to pull the soaking wet material back up. The sweat on his legs and the wet pants made it an arduous task and as he tried to wrestle his butt back into them, his fingers went through the material just beneath the waistband, leaving two holes, one above either cheek. ‘He’s going to kill me!’ With a bit of difficulty, Liam managed to pull up the zipper, but was unable to button the pants. Past the point of caring, he splashed around to the driver’s door and carefully got into the car, aware of a small ripping noise as his butt connected with the seat. Liam looked at the time and saw he had just under an hour until Kirk was due to get back to the house. Liam raced back to Kirk’s house and was relieved that Kirk’s car was nowhere to be seen. After stuffing the remnants of Kirk’s silk briefs to his glove compartment, Liam grabbed the envelope and slowly eased himself out of the car. The rain had stopped and the suit had mercifully dried off somewhat in the car. Liam slammed the car door shut and made to run for the house, but in his haste, he hadn’t noticed that the tail of the suit jacket had caught in the door and as he moved, the slightly damp material tore straight up the back and through the collar before tugging the entire left side of the jacket off of his body. ‘FUCK!’ he screamed as he unlocked the door and freed the ruined jacket. He pulled off the other half and with both bundled under his arm with the envelope, he ran for the house as quickly as he could. As he reached the front door, he heard the unmistakeable sound of Kirk’s car and the sound of the gates opening. In his panic to unlock the door, Liam bent down to grab them and the pants finally gave up. They ripped down the seam next to the zipper, through the crotch and around and up the rear seam. The pants hung down to Liam’s thighs exposing his butt and his manhood. Liam ignored this, unlocked the door and dived inside, slamming it shut behind him. Holding up the material, he ran up the stairs and across the landing to Kirk’s dressing room. He kicked off the dress shoes, just as he heard the slam of Kirk’s car door. After rubbing them clean with the remnants of the suit jacket, Liam quickly put the shoes back into the Hugo Boss box and put the box into the wardrobe, praying that Kirk wouldn’t look at them until they were dry. He then pulled off the shirt and the remains of the trousers and bundled them into an empty garment bag. Liam heard the front door slam shut as Kirk entered the house and without knowing what to do, Liam tossed the garment bag out of the window, which fell into a tangle of hedges that lined one side of the house. ‘Liam,’ Kirk yelled from the entrance hall. ‘I’m naked. Fuck, fuck, fuck!’ Liam decided to just keep the socks and garters on as he grabbed his shirt and jacket and started pulling them on. He grabbed his pants, but couldn’t see his white briefs anywhere. Deciding to forgo his underwear for now, Liam just managed to yank up his pants and step into his shoes and Kirk walked through the door. ‘What are you doing in here?’ Kirk said as he strolled into the dressing room. ‘I forgot to lay out your bow tie for this evening. I remembered as I was driving back with the documents.’ Liam handed the slightly damp manila envelope to Kirk, which was when he noticed his briefs were in a ball next to one of the dressers – just to the right of Kirk’s foot. ‘I’ll head back to the office and carry on with that filing,’ Liam said with a polite nod. ‘Before you go, you can lay out my suit for tomorrow.’ ‘Which one would you like to wear?’ Liam asked as his heart started racing. ‘The grey one, I think. You picked it up, didn’t you?’ The colour drained from Liam’s face as Kirk took a step forward and his wingtip shoe caught his briefs. ‘The grey suit wasn’t ready, so I have to go back tomorrow.’ Kirk rolled his eyes. ‘You can’t rely on anybody. Fine. I’ll wear the Navy-Blue Gucci one.’ Kirk took another step forward and the briefs stayed on his shoe as he moved. Unfortunately, Kirk noticed where Liam’s eyes were and he looked down to notice the briefs on his shoe. ‘What on earth are these?’ Kirk said as he picked them up. ‘They’re ummmmm . . .’ ‘Can you explain this, Liam?’ ‘Yes, sir. They’re mine. I dropped them.’ ‘Can you explain how you dropped your underwear in my dressing room?’ Kirk’s face was slowly getting redder as his rage started to bubble. ‘They were in my pocket and must have fallen out.’ ‘Why the hell were your briefs in your pocket?’ Kirk yelled. ‘They were too tight and I . . . took them off . . . sir.’ ‘Put them back on . . . now.’ Liam nodded and took the briefs from Kirk, before heading towards the door, but Kirk stopped him. ‘You can put those back on here.’ With a sigh, Liam sheepishly unbuttoned his pants, knowing it wasn’t wise to even attempt to argue, but as he dropped his trousers, he suddenly remembered that he was wearing Kirk’s socks and garters. ‘Liam, can you explain why you are wearing my socks and garters?’ Liam thought he saw a hint of amusement in Kirk’s eyes, but if it had been there, it was gone in a second. ‘Sir, I can explain . . . I . . .’ It was then that Kirk noticed the two empty suit bags from the dry cleaners that were folded nightly on the dresser. ‘Where’s my grey suit, Liam? The truth this time.’ ‘Can I just put my briefs back on first?’ ‘No, I want answers NOW.’ Liam nodded and decided to just come clean. ‘I wanted to see what it was like to wear the sort of clothes you do, so I tried on your grey suit, with your black shirt and even . . . a pair of your silk briefs.’ ‘And where are they now?’ ‘The suit and the shirt are in a garment bag outside in the hedge and the briefs are . . . in my glove compartment.’ ‘Why aren’t they back in my wardrobe?’ ‘The silk briefs shredded and fell apart, I caught the jacket in the door and it tore in half and the pants ripped from front to back. I was going to get the garment bag later and get everything repaired. Kirk wandered around the dressing room for a moment and didn’t even look at Liam, who was starting to feel sick. ‘Here’s what’s going to happen. You are going to get my suit repaired and then you are going to go home. The day after tomorrow, you will be here at 8am and you will ensure my calendar is cleared. You want to wear my clothes and destroy them? You’re in for a treat – I’m going to dress you up and then I’m going to humiliate the life out of you. You think you can abuse my possessions? Just you wait!’ Liam tried to argue, but Kirk wasn’t interested and dismissed him from the house. Liam had no idea what Kirk had in mind, but he was praying that the day after tomorrow would never come.

My birth story. 4 months later

35 weeks and 1 day. ONE DAY.

I woke up that day feeling pretty crappy and not crappy because I was having laboring pains or anything. Crappy because the Friday before I was told I was 4 centimeters dilated and to be "admitted" I had to be 5. My doctor told me I was 4 centimeters, told me she could feel one of my twins head through the bag of water, tried to stretch me just a tad be wider and even called Labor & Delivery to see if I could come in a have my twins. No luck. I went home overemotional and in very much pain. I had no energy or even cared to try to walk up stairs, have sex or any of those other things proven to pick up labor. My contractions were consistently at 4-5 minutes or 5-7 minutes apart but I always knew what to do (drink lots and lots of water) so I ignored it. Plus, with as many times that David and I went to L&D and they stopped the contractions and told me I was "too early" I just slept through them that night, after a hot shower to ease the pain, of course.

Here we are, Saturday. I was 35 weeks and 1 day. I woke up feeling the exact same way I went to sleep, i.e. contractions, exhausted, tired of being pregnant. My contractions had continued all through the night and into the morning. David and I were just lounging around the house as we usually do on Saturdays. Around 1 pm, something did not feel right. My water did not break or anything for cause of concern, but I just did not feel good. I called my advice nurse, texted my mom and got ready. I was instructed to go into L&D. Hearing this for the fourth time did not make me jump for joy. In the past, me and my husband would go in and they would load me with fluids, check my cervix and send me home, all within 5-8 hours. Hearing that, I casually finished my slice of pizza and packed my puppy, Minnie. Nothing too fast and dramatic, I was dreading this hour drive and to be told to go back home.

Two hours later, after making a pit stop for ice chips (mmmmm) and dropping of my puppy at the in laws, we had arrived. I did not feel like I was in labor, if anything my contractions were the same 4-5 minutes and honestly not even hurting me. I was content. We got up to the third floor of Holy Cross Hospital and I check in. Nonchalantly giving the receptionist all my information (because I know the drill by now, it's the fourth time) and then I sit in the waiting room. There is about three other laboring patients in the lobby. I was, obviously, the biggest (being pregnant with twins and all) but I didn't think I was the one in most pain and laboring as bad as the others. Looking around the room I saw this sign that read "patients will be called back based on urgency and number of beds available". In my mind, I read "Dacia will be called back last". I sat there and watched the Olympic recap and probably some politics and then, my name was called. What? 

Being called back so fast, and before the others who looked to be more in pain to me, was a total shock. And to be honest, those lady looked just as shocked as I was. Was it because I was 35 weeks with twins? I felt totally fine.

Walking back into triage was something I remembered. I asked my nurse, who I'd been with about three out of the four times now, if I needed to pee in a cup because I had been saving it for this exact moment. She told me "no". That was something new. I got to my room and stripped down, not needing to be told and I took off everything except my socks and had the gown opened to the back. A few nurses who noticed me came in and had quick conversations. As I've stated before this was my fourth visit and also, to add, my aunt had worked in triage and L&D at Holy Cross Hospital and my mom had delivered 7/8 o f her kids here. The last name Epps is not as common as you think. My husband loved being known and having connects, it made him feel important and almost like a celebrity. For me, this was normal everywhere I went.

Anyway, back to being butt naked in a gown in triage. I was put on the monitor, as usual, to monitor the babies movements and contractions. Everything was normal. The only difference between this time and the last time was how much further along I was. That’s all I needed, apparently. My nurse Michelle pulled back the curtain and said "are you ready to have these twins?!" with such a huge smile on her face. Happiest day of my life.

I remember them telling me how much longer it would be until someone would come wheel me into L&D and how many people were in front of me for C-section. It all hit me right there. I was so anxious to have these babies out of me that I had never mentally thought about how they'd  come out or just delivery day period. I had so many emotions. Excited because I'd meet my little men who had been kicking my ass these 8 months, nervous about having my first major surgery, curious if the babies would need assistance breathing and if they would be big enough to come home with us.

Getting our room in L&D was the most surreal part. We had never gotten this far yet. David was handed some scrubs and nurse after nurse came in to tell me about my wait time and prep me for my epidural. After that happened, we waited. I was handed my hair cover and was told to take all my piercings and jewelry off and then wheeled away. My husband waited outside the operation room and waited for the O.K. to come in. I remember the operation room being so bright and cold, I was literally shivering. There was music playing and lots of chit-chat. The vibe was AMAZING, saying I was about to get cut open and risk my life for my babies. Nothing too serious because I was not a serious person. Many nurses introduced themselves but I was half listening because I was wondering "where is my husband?". There was team Baby A and team Baby B, double the nurses. Plus there were the surgeons and a student. This was only his second C-section… yikes. I remember thinking to myself that my twins would go in the books for him.

When they were about to get started someone said "where's dad?" I will forever thank that person because I'm sure I was seconds away from being cut open. He came in with the biggest smile on his face and sat right beside my head. We had  some weird side conversation, because what else do you talk about when you're being cut open and about to become parents?  I was mostly chatty because I did not know if I was going to feel a lot of pain or what. That conversation only lasted about 1 minute because the next thing we heard was "here comes Baby A" and a cry.  The cutest newborn cry. I instantly cried, and I don't know why because stuff like that doesn't bring me to tears. I guess its some type of chemical thing when becoming a parent because David cried during our first ultrasound at 8 weeks hearing the heartbeat and discovering we were having twins and I cried as a baby gets pulled out of me. Anyway, next thing I heard was a doctor asking David if he wanted to cut the cord and so he did. Seconds later, Baby B was pulled out and brought into this world. August 27th, 2016 at 9:01 and 9:02 pm.

 David had the option to stay with me or go with the twins and I told him, yes told him, because we had had this conversation numerous of times, that he must go with the twins. Looking back, he wished he would have stayed because my surgery went downhill. While the boys were getting cleaned and bathed, I was bleeding out on the table for two straight hours. I remember receiving two more blood transfusions while I was in and out of consciousness. I remember a surgeon yell out "Mrs. Swanson, if we cant get your uterus to contract and the blood to stop we will have to remove your uterus". You know I was that much out of it because I said "okay" knowing damn well that I wanted more kids. I was hemorrhaging, bad. My uterus was so overstretched because of the two 5 lb. 5 oz. babies that had just came out of me and I am only 5 feet and 115 lbs. myself. I started to feel a lot and apparently starting moving my legs and becoming fidgety and the anesthesiologist  continue to dose me up with more and more medicine. Eventually I would be out cold for the rest of the surgery and eventually the rest of the night.

I don't remember much after the last dose of medicine that went down my spine, other than the fact that it was cold going into my spine. I don’t remember being wheeled back into my room, I don't remember being greeted by my husband or seeing my babies. Periodically through the night I recall a number of nurses surrounding my bed trying to wake me. I now know (because my husband told me)that they were asking me a series of questions, such as who I was and where I lived. I recall answering these questions but maybe it was in my head because I never opened my mouth or even my eyes. I remember hearing my husbands voice and answering him, but that never happened either.  I was shivering uncontrollable to where there was about five heated blankets on me. The nurses came in like clockwork to push on my stomach and check my bleeding. It honestly felt like they came in every hour but it was every 15 minutes and progressively got further apart. I was asleep from the birth of my babies until 10 am the next morning.

 When the next morning rolled along, I had no clue about how unresponsive I was and how I had worried all my nurses and my husband. I had no clue where my babies where and even what time of day it was. How long had I been asleep? I called my husband over who had been sleeping in the couch on the other side of the room.  I was very weak, I threw something at him to get his attention because I couldn't yell. He explained how I was practically out cold and unresponsive to the nurses, what happened during surgery and that the twins are perfectly healthy and in the nursery so that I could rest. Meanwhile, while he was explaining this I was dosing in and out. I knew I had to get myself together in order to see my babies because I figured they would not give me them being drugged up and falling asleep mid… everything. So when the next nurse walked in I sat up straight and tried to pretend everything was good. Pretend I was completely responsive. Pretend I was not still dosed up on whatever. Just pretend. The nurse came in with the doctor and I was able to drink water and juice. The doctor then told me how much I worried the team last night and that "it's highly recommended to not get pregnant for another year or so". Done deal.

It was about 10:30am when I finally got to see my babies. Almost 14 hours the next day after delivery. I was still dosing off but I had my husband watch me and stay by my side. I remember looking at them and saying "they are so perfect" but maybe it was in my mind again. They had so much hair, great complexion and were swaddled so snug, it was amazing!  They looked just like my husband. Even better, they were healthy and breathing on their own (No NICU!) Everything I went through was worth it (although I didn't know how much pain I was in because I was still on a lot of the medication from the night before).Shortly after I got to hold them for the first time, we were all wheeled upstairs to the maternity suites. There my road to recovery would begin, and it would be a bumpy road.

Should Personal Trainers Stretch Their Clients?

I’m a massage therapist who’s been stretching athletes and clients since the 1980s. For the past 25 years, I’ve conducted seminars to show personal trainers how to stretch their clients safely and effectively.

In addition, I literally wrote the book on assisted stretching. It’s sold more than 150,000 copies since the first edition came out in 1994, and been translated into six languages.

I tell you that for two reasons:

First, I have a professional stake in the answer to this question. I’ve invested close to 40 years in massage therapy and facilitated stretching. Second, I’ve seen the benefits. I know it helps clients feel better, move better, and perform better.

But I’ll be the first one to say that trainer-assisted stretching isn’t right for every client or every trainer. Like so many other questions raised by fitness professionals, the answer to “should trainers stretch their clients?” is an emphatic “it depends.”

It’s not even a single question. As I see it, there are four questions:

Should trainers in the “me too” era simply avoid touching clients at all, for any reason?

If a client asks to be stretched, or gives permission for assisted stretching, is this something personal trainers are qualified to do?

If they are, is it actually a good idea? Does stretching produce genuine, lasting benefits?

Are there risks to stretching clients that might outweigh any benefits?

Let’s take them in order, and then I’ll show you how to stretch clients safely and effectively, if it’s something you decide to include in your workouts.

READ ALSO: 15 Common Mobility Mistakes

Should you touch clients in the “me too” era?

Lots of trainers these days are cautioned not to touch clients. It’s a foreign concept to me after four decades as a massage therapist, but I understand the reason. Although I’ve never witnessed anything untoward, I’ve certainly heard stories about trainers who make assisted stretching look like foreplay.

There’s a pretty easy rulebook to follow:

Ask before you touch.

Be aware of the power differential in your relationship.

Most of all, be aware of your body position relative to the client’s. When you’re down by the ischial tuberosity, you’re out of bounds.

READ ALSO: A Fitness Pro’s Guide to Sexual Harassment

Are you qualified to stretch clients?

To the best of my knowledge, the major organizations that certify personal trainers don’t include rules for stretching clients within their scope of practice guidelines.

In general, your role as a trainer is to evaluate each client’s current fitness level, and then design, implement, and supervise an appropriate exercise program, based on their stated goals. Stretching certainly falls within these guidelines.

But this assumes you know what you’re doing. We’ve all seen trainers performing stretches on clients who do it poorly. That’s what fuels the controversy over trainer-assisted stretching, and leads to the idea that trainers shouldn’t do it at all.

Trainers have lots of opportunities to learn specialized stretching techniques. The best are face-to-face workshops with supervised practice. You could also get certified in a particular system for flexibility or mobility.

The next-best option is to study online, watch videos, practice the system however you can, and gradually integrate assisted stretching into your practice.

READ ALSO: The Best Advanced and Specialized Certifications for Personal Trainers

Does assisted stretching actually increase a client’s flexibility?

The short answer is yes: When you make trainer-assisted stretching part of each training session, your clients will indeed improve their overall flexibility.

But it’s also true that clients will get little to no benefit if they only stretch when they’re training with you. You need to show them stretches they can do on their own, and encourage them to do those exercises on non-training days.

READ ALSO: 25 Tips to Increase Adherence Outside the Gym

You also need to make sure they’re doing the stretches correctly. People are creatures of habit, and if they’re doing something wrong, they’re going to continue doing it wrong until someone corrects them.

If you ask how stretching increases flexibility, that’s a more complicated question. Twenty years ago, we had a perfect explanation of what was going on. We were sure that stretching lengthened the tissue. Today we have a fair bit of evidence that you’re not getting any change in length.

What changes is the stretch tolerance. The tissues are allowed to lengthen during a stretching exercise because the nervous system learns not to perceive it as a threat. To the client, what felt “too tight” no longer feels that way.

Are there risks to stretching your clients?

Yes.

Hypermobile clients, for example, don’t need more flexibility. Their muscles aren’t strong enough to provide stability at the end range of motion, putting them at high risk for sprained joints (and relatively low risk for muscle strains). That’s their weak area, and that’s what you should work on: building strength to control joint movement.

There are also risks to stretching clients incorrectly, as I’ll explain in the next section.

You have to assess each client not just for how much flexibility they have, but for how much they need. A high school cross country runner has very different needs from a dancer or gymnast, just as an adult client who runs half-marathons has different needs from one who does yoga.

At the same time, you have to consider the risks of your clients not working on their range of motion. That’s especially true of your middle-aged, mostly sedentary clients. As I’ve gotten older (I’m now 70), flexibility is more important to me. I don’t recover as fast from aches and strains, and I certainly don’t want to lose the ability to do simple things like bend down and pick something up off the floor.

Which brings us to the most important question: If you decide your clients will benefit from trainer-assisted stretching, what’s the best way to do it?

READ ALSO: Why Doing Hip Flexor Stretches May Not Be as Helpful as You Think

How to stretch your clients safely and effectively

Trainer-assisted stretching generally falls into three categories:

1. Passive stretching

The trainer does all the work to stretch the client. It presents, in my view, the least benefit with the most risk. It doesn’t expand a client’s active range of motion, and there’s a genuine risk of injuring the client by overstretching the tissues.

2. Active isolated stretching (AIS)

The basic idea: If you stretch a muscle as far as it can go, the nervous system will perceive a threat, and the myotatic reflex will prevent it from stretching any farther.

But if you hold that stretch for just two seconds, and then relax the muscle, the myotatic reflex won’t have time to kick in. And if you repeat the stretch multiple times, the nervous system will allow a greater range of motion.

To make the targeted muscle relax, you contract its opposing muscle. So if you’re stretching the hamstrings, you’d lie on your back, raise your leg by activating your hip flexors, then pull the leg back into a deeper stretch for two seconds, usually with the help of a rope or strap around your foot. You’d pull on the ends of the strap to stretch the hamstrings, then bring the leg back to the starting position and repeat the maneuver.

In the trainer-assisted version, you would take the place of the rope, pushing the client’s leg into the deeper stretch. The client’s activation of the hip flexors reduces the risk of injury, but doesn’t eliminate it. A trainer who’s too aggressive can still cause problems.

3. Proprioceptive neuromuscular facilitation (PNF)

Like AIS, PNF involves contracting and releasing the targeted muscles. Because there are multiple versions, both active and passive, I’ll focus on my specialty: facilitated stretching.

It’s unlikely to cause an injury because the client does the actual stretching. The trainer’s role is to assist with an isometric contraction, which again is performed by the client. At no point does the trainer stretch the client’s muscles beyond their active range of motion.

Let’s look at how to do it.

The three-part facilitated stretching sequence

Each stretch has three steps:

Step 1: The client moves a limb to its end range. If the target muscle is the hamstring, this would be a straight leg raise.

Step 2: The client isometrically contracts the target muscle for six seconds, pushing against resistance offered by the trainer. It could be your shoulder, leg, or hand. The point is to provide something solid enough for the client to activate the muscle while the limb remains stationary. (It doesn’t work if the client overpowers you.)

Step 3: The client relaxes and inhales deeply while you support the limb in the same position. Then the client exhales and actively moves the limb again, this time achieving a greater range of motion, and thus a deeper stretch of the target muscle.

Now you move into the new position to provide resistance as the client repeats the isometric contraction.

You can stop there, after two repetitions, or do it a third time if you think the client can achieve a little more range of motion.

But at no point will you push or pull to force the deeper stretch.

Here’s what a facilitated hamstring stretch looks like:

Final thoughts about trainer-assisted stretching

I’ve written this article from the viewpoint that these three things are true:

Flexibility is valuable for everyone.

Flexibility is important enough to include in most training sessions with most (but not all) clients.

Trainer-assisted stretching is the most effective way to help clients improve their overall flexibility.

Even if you agree with all three statements, you may decide it’s not for you, and that’s fine. Maybe you don’t want to be that hands-on with your clients. Maybe they don’t want to be touched. Maybe your gym doesn’t allow it. Or maybe you don’t feel you have the knowledge or experience to do it safely.

I respect all those reasons.

But if you are qualified to stretch clients, or plan to become qualified, here’s the most important thing to know:

Stretching should always be pain free.

If a client tells you something hurts, or flinches or grimaces during a stretch, try a slightly different position, or tell the client to use less force on the isometric portion of the exercise. And if that doesn’t help, avoid stretching that muscle until you can figure out why it hurts.

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