I’ve put on another ten pounds in the last year, at least 5 of those in my breasts, but that’s in addition to the extra weight I’ve been carrying around the last almost 10 years since my run in with the anti-depressant Remeron.
Some days I think fuck anyone who judges my weight. I try to carry myself well and dress in a way that flatters my shape and size. And sometimes I just plain don’t care – I happily wear my form-fitting sweater dress with horizontal stripes. I try not to think about how people look at me and my weight.
That said, I know I need to lose weight to help my joints. Losing 10 pounds reduces the amount of pressure on your joints by 40 pounds of pressure. With the way that my feet, ankles, knees and hips are feeling these days, it’s the least I can do for them.
Between not feeling great and worrying about pushing myself too much and using up my energy I’ve not been doing too much physical activity. I sometimes need to rest after a shower or washing the dishes or taking my laundry downstairs…this is life with Rheum.
I have a free gym membership to Goodlife through my job. I wish I used it more. I want to use it more. I need to use it more. I asked for a Wii Fit for my birthday to avoid the gym – that didn’t really work either.
Going to the gym brings out all my fat girl, self-conscious, not good enough issues. From the moment I step into the gym I feel like I don’t belong. I don’t have the right shape, the right clothes and I’m not even remotely “healthy” enough.
I know that many women like women’s only clubs – I hate them. Men at the gym don’t intimidate me or make me feel inadequate, it’s the women beside me on the elliptical who aren’t even breaking a sweat in their tiny Lululemon ensembles, who look like they fell off a magazine cover that make me want to run and hide. (As an aside who makes non “compression” yoga pants these days? My go-to used to be Old Navy but I don’t need my rolls squished when I’m already feeling uncomfortable thanks)
In my mind that woman and every other one is watching me, judging me as I plod along for 20 minutes, sweating, red-faced and puffing for air.
I try to cover up as much as possible at the gym. A form fitting tank to wick away sweat and smooth out the lumpy parts, with a baggy t-shirt over top and yoga pants.
I feel awkward.
I feel like a fat girl. I know the only way to lose weight is to get moving and the gym will help but I hate subjecting myself to that over and over again.
I went to a few Bodyflow classes with coworkers – it was still intimidating. Seeing those women who clearly attend all the time, who bend, and move and look graceful. Then there was me – modified movements, dripping sweat, watching how my rolls squished around in the mirror. It was humiliating in my head. The only time I managed to quell the nagging voice I’m my head was when I finally laid down and closed my eyes, thankful I was still alive.
I see people running outside and I get mad with myself. When I could have done that I didn’t. When I had the chance to get in better shape before my health was taken from me I never used it. I made excuses. I procrastinated. Tomorrow I’ll go to the gym and then tomorrow never came.
People who have seemingly endless energy and physical abilities make me envious (Yes people who constantly log all their gym/athletics are mildly annoying) but I wish I had a quarter of that ability. Truly.
So I start over. Slowly. Trying to remind myself that I am doing this for myself so other people and any judgement they might have can bite my fat ass! The biggest judgements are my own. I know this. I’m hoping that I can keep my self-conscious fat girl voice quiet when I hit the gym this week.