Getting It Up

Get your minds out of the gutter, people. :) I mean my big, fat ass!

I know pretty much everyone that comes here also reads AndreAnna, but in case you happen to come here first today (although I don't know why you would, because she's way cooler than I am), she's issued us all a fitness challenge - work out, report your total time per week to her, and she'll donate $1 to breast cancer research for every five hours logged!! Plus, she's doing Couch to 5K, which will coincide with her running the Komen 5K in the fall.

I'm going to do the C25K program too. I also joined sparkpeople.com this morning, which is a site devoted to all aspects of fitness - meal tracking, calorie tracking, exercise tracking, animal tracking (oops, not really that last one), you name it. I need to get myself in gear, and overcome both my mental and emotional insecurities. In the name of full disclosure, I'll admit my dirty little exercise secret to you.

I am afraid to really work out in public. There, I said it.

I have been heavy all my life, to varying degrees. When I was in school, until high school, I was The Fat Kid. I had almost no friends until junior high, and was the constant butt of every joke you could imagine. I was laughed at, ridiculed by people I knew and those I didn't. As I got older, I gained friends and lost some weight, but still the habits of children die hard, so even though I was an acceptable weight in high school, I was still called names by those looking to have someone to pound on. Those names have stayed with me my entire life.

Even as I have gotten older, I think I still radiate the expectation of being ridiculed, because I still hear comments sometimes, mostly from either kids or low-class types, but regardless of the source, they still hurt. Ironically, the times I am most likely to hear comments is when I'm exercising - nothing like being told you have a jello ass when you're doing the very thing it would take to get rid of it, because the first thing it makes me want to do is go home, put away my sneakers, and hide under a blanket with a book.

I used to feel relatively safe at the gym, in lifting classes. I have always been strong, and yoga and weights have always been my strong suit. That is, until last year, when I was in a strength class at my new gym for the first time and was singled out by the trainer as being off balance and 'doing it wrong' in front of the entire class, and I had to admit in front of everyone that I have scoliosis and one of my legs is longer than the other as a result. She was slightly abashed, but the damage was done - everyone was staring at me, and I was humiliated. I never went back.

Over the years, I have learned to compensate for whatever it is that attracts people to pay me attention. I exercise quietly, by walking - never running, which would make my boobs jiggle and invite comments - or doing yoga at home. I always have my dogs with me when I'm outside, both because I like having them with me and because they distract attention from me / give me a focus other than what people may be thinking about me.

I am 35 years old, was most way to an MBA before I stopped working while pregnant with Patrick, and can sew fabulous party dresses for Josie. I volunteer, sing in a choir, and can deliver children's messages in front of an entire congregation with ease. I did the Avon 3-Day a few years back. In short, I'm a smart, sometimes interesting person, and I generally don't care whether people agree with me or not. However, if someone should make even the most remote comment about my body, I want to die. This is a ridiculous state of affairs, that I should have reached this point in my life and still be internalizing what people think about my looks. It will stop here. I'm going to do this workout schedule to join AndreAnna, to raise money, and most importantly at the moment, to show myself that I can do it. I will shut those people up, yes, but I will shut up my own demons as well. I WILL.