In the last year I have put on some weight. We all do, it happens. I'm trying not to let it stress me out. I started exercising and stopped eating entire boxes of Triscuits. Since we moved to a new town and I am a social little butterfly, I joined our county's little YMCA so I can do Zumba and make friends. I also started doing Jillian Michael's DVDs. I've always leaned towards the fun dancey classes or extreme scary classes. If I am going to work out, I either need to be having lots of fun with a group for accountability, or have someone yelling at me and trying to kill me. It's one extreme or the other or I will just quit. Put me on a treadmill and I will promptly get off out of boredom and lack of discipline.
The first few weeks of Zumba were awkward trying to get the steps down. I've never been great at shaking my ass (not for lack of ass but for lack of coordination). My old gym in the burbs was huge with tiny people in expensive outfits, so I love our Y where everyone seems to be my age or older and about my pace. There's usually less than 20 in my class and everyone is super sweet.
After a month in Zumba, I am pretty sure I am killing it. I have the moves down, I can shake and do the turns, and I'm rocking my neon Danskin work out clothes from Walmart. The year I spent in junior varsity show choir is clearly paying off. I have even moved out of the back row.
Then, she shows up. We all know who SHE is. Beautiful, wearing tiny shorts, skinny and toned. Cellulite takes one look at her and runs. She can jump higher, shake it better, squat lower, and looks sexy when she sweats. What does she do to look like that? Clearly I am not working hard enough. There must be secret rooms in gyms where the really fit people can nap, drink energy drinks and protein shakes and just never have to leave. How can I gain access to this room?. I start messing up moves, I am aware of every jiggle, I avoid my reflection, and I can only think about her.
Just like that, she stole my Zumba vibe. I'm not having fun, I keep tripping because I am glancing at her. I'm thinking about what she must be doing.
Of course, she wasn't the problem. I am pretty sure she wasn't like "hey, I am going to go be awesome in here for a while to make people feel bad about themselves." The problem was me. I was having an awesome time until I gave in to MY insecurities. She's probably a lovely person. It doesn't matter that she looks different than me. Comparing myself to this stranger, I allowed myself to ruin my own night. I stole my own confidence. I stole my own Zumba vibe.
When a new woman walks in to the room, she is the enemy until we can find something wrong with her. The skinnier, prettier, and more she appears to have her shit together, the worse she must be. After focusing on how much better she was than me, my next instinct was to speculate what could be wrong with her to make her less intimidating. Let me tell you, this is bullshit. This hurts us all, this keeps us down. This keeps us separate.
I decided I wasn't going to let my own issues with my weight, body and post-pixie mullet stop me. Comparing myself to her did NOTHING for me but make me hate her and hate myself for the entire class. It was completely pointless. Comparison and self doubt take an enormous amount of energy and time commitment. So what is she is not only pretty and fit but also happens to be successful AND nice? Good for her.
I decided my future Zumba classes were going to be for me. I wasn't going to look at anyone else. I moved myself to the front row so I could focus on getting the steps down and not be able to see anyone else. There was just me, cha-cha-ing to Pit Bull. Putting on a smile, I thought only about feeling good and dancing. I talked to other people after. It was an amazing time and left feeling exhilarated.
There's always going to be someone better than me. There are better writers, better Zumba-ers, usually better dressers. Who cares? I do not need to be them, I don't need to hate them or compare myself to them for motivation.
Someone else being themselves doesn't make me less me.
One thing I know I can do well is rock the shit out of being myself.
No comments:
Post a Comment