It has been a crazy couple of weeks. So much to blog about, but not really able to due to content and me valuing employment and my family life. So many things that anger the pony, but also so many things that baffle the pony. Today, I'd like to talk about body images. I know, I know, I never talk about that, ever, right? Ground-breaking stuff, really.
Since January, I have really tried to throw myself into world of fitness and gym membership. It isn't easy being the fat girl in the dressing room or out in the gym, for that matter. It's a pretty self-conscious kind of thing. The Gym Barbies are out there in their sports bras, cute little yoga shorts, their hair in a high pony tail. They look totes adorbs. I, on the other hand, wearing a big baggy t-shirt and yoga pants that stop at the heel of my shoe. This baby is covered up. I have even recently purchased some snugger fitting yoga pants so that I can keep this jiggle under control. When I am doing my intervals on the elliptical, I don't need my thighs giving me a round of applause. When I am doing my kettle bell swings, I don't need my arms flapping. This body moves, and not always when I tell it to. None the less, it is what it is and I go forth and do what needs doing. And, yes, I pick a time to go to the gym when there are not a lot of Gym Barbies down there. I don't need to see that. But ultimately, it is what it is, and I try and push it out of my mind.
What has become kind of a mystery to me is the locker room behavior. I usually go down to the gym when there is only one or two other girls down there. They are friendly, nice people. By the time I finish at the gym and am getting dressed, that is usually about the time the Gym Barbies show up. The mystery to me is how people are so shy about their bodies. Here I am, with every reason to hide and be ashamed, but I'm like you know what, if you want to look and judge, take a good hard look cuz here it is. Doesn't mean I'm walking around naked owning the room, but I just stay over in my little corner and go about my business. And it is serious business. I mean, this body is now warmed up and I have to get the FCD to roll down over my boobs. It is a work-out in itself. Sometimes I'm trapped there. The FCD is all rolled up under my arm pits and I'm reaching around trying to pull it down, but it won't go. I'm all contorted, belly sticking out, back arched, one arm tugging in the front, one arm tugging in the back, sometimes a full body shimmy is incorporated. My Victoria Secret bra, with way more padding than any girl should attempt, is holding the FCD hostage. I finally get it under control and now I'm sweaty again. Now, it's time to get the nylons back on and try not to snag them. It's an art. You don't just go willy-nilly tugging those bad boys on there. You were lucky to get them on the first time with no snags, but now a second time? You have just reached "dreamer" status. Anyway, I'm just saying, it's like a side-show, but I own it and I put myself back together without shame. This is the body I have, right now, like it or not.
In the midst of my dressing extravaganza, I do catch a glimpse of a person here or a person there. I am always amazed by the smaller girls either taking their stuff into the handicapped bathroom stall to change or huddling in the corner like a homeless waif desperately trying to cover up. Really? We are all women here. Unless you have boy parts that the average woman doesn't have, then I don't think you have anything to worry about. And, who is checking you out? No one. Everyone glances around as they talk and such, but I don't really think anyone is scrutinizing your body. And, another thing, if this saggy, cellulite infested mosh pit of lilly white skin can make a semi-public appearance in the locker room, why can't yours? You take care of it, you look great, why are you shuffling off into the handicapped stall? I'm not saying you should do a runway walk through the locker room, but where is your self-confidence? No body is perfect, even the skinny ones. I don't understand, I guess. Maybe it's just modesty? I'm starting to think that maybe skinny girls have feelings...and body issues, too. I mean, of course they do, right? Maybe in that respect I'm better off than I think? I mean, my husband has seen me naked...with the lights on and in the daytime. That has to count for something. I'm not saying I'm ready to go to a nakie resort or anything, but I am not going to freak if someone sees me naked in a normal situation where people get naked, ie, the locker room, the doctor, my bedroom, etc.
When I think about it, I think my sixth grade locker room trauma may have actually done me a favor in life. There I was, in the locker room in sixth grade. We were required to take showers and we had to get wet in the open showering area and then walk up to the gym teachers office window to get a towel. And, if you were not wet enough, you were sent back to the shower. It was horrifying and humiliating for a girl of 12 years old. Especially a fat girl. And, like as if the kids weren't already mean to me prior to sixth grade, this new middle school little bitch popularity thing was no fun to survive either. So, in my effort to hurry back to my locker to get dressed, I was walking really quickly on a smooth cement floor. I was scampering, almost. You and I both know where this is going. That's right, my wet feet slipped and I went down I went like a fish onto a slab and my fat butt and legs made a slapping sound like no other. Everyone turned to look. So, now, here is a naked fat girl trying to get off a slippery floor with some sort of dignity. It's impossible, just so you know. Survivable, but not possible to hold one's head high after that. I think at that moment I realized, just don't make an issue of it. I'm just going to go about my business. And, if that little pop-tart barbie bitch wearing her Garfield underwear that say Tuesday on the front of them and a non-necessary training bra wants to say something to me, Fuck. Her. I'd rather blend in than run around trying to hide. I mean really, it's like a Buick trying to hide behind a blade of grass. Come on, get real.
And so, back to modern day in the locker room. What are these women so afraid of? What is it about their body that is so horrid they have to go hide, or why are they trying to wrestle a towel and and their clothes at the same time so no one knows they are naked under there? You know what? If I wear my underwear that say, "Bombshell" on the ass of them, I'm going to own it. Check 'em out, ladies. Of course, then you have the other side of it. You do have the Gym Barbies that are all tan, got big hooters and seem to enjoy standing there buck naked talking to you with grand hand gestures. I'm glad she's comfortable, but could you reign it in? I know I just said own it, but I didn't say flaunt it.
Really, what I'm saying is, hey, it's no secret that I hate this skin I'm stuck in. I'm trying to change that and I'm trying to believe in who I am becoming, but I can still stand there and own it. I guess I should be proud that I can, because even some of the prettiest and skinniest of girls can't. As a bigger person, I have spent a lifetime with these body issues and viewing the "skinny bitches" of the world with envy, admiration, hate, jealousy and contempt. I think, maybe I have been too hard on them, or given them too much credit for being "lucky." Life is so much more complex than how we look, it's too bad society is so keen on keeping that in the forefront. Anyway, I'm not going to lie to you, I'm still going to be jealous and I'm still going to watch America's Next Top Model to see skinny bitches in turmoil, but in the locker room, I think maybe I can be a little smug knowing that I'm not hiding in the handicapped stall.
Work it, bitch. (insert finger snap, here)
Since January, I have really tried to throw myself into world of fitness and gym membership. It isn't easy being the fat girl in the dressing room or out in the gym, for that matter. It's a pretty self-conscious kind of thing. The Gym Barbies are out there in their sports bras, cute little yoga shorts, their hair in a high pony tail. They look totes adorbs. I, on the other hand, wearing a big baggy t-shirt and yoga pants that stop at the heel of my shoe. This baby is covered up. I have even recently purchased some snugger fitting yoga pants so that I can keep this jiggle under control. When I am doing my intervals on the elliptical, I don't need my thighs giving me a round of applause. When I am doing my kettle bell swings, I don't need my arms flapping. This body moves, and not always when I tell it to. None the less, it is what it is and I go forth and do what needs doing. And, yes, I pick a time to go to the gym when there are not a lot of Gym Barbies down there. I don't need to see that. But ultimately, it is what it is, and I try and push it out of my mind.
What has become kind of a mystery to me is the locker room behavior. I usually go down to the gym when there is only one or two other girls down there. They are friendly, nice people. By the time I finish at the gym and am getting dressed, that is usually about the time the Gym Barbies show up. The mystery to me is how people are so shy about their bodies. Here I am, with every reason to hide and be ashamed, but I'm like you know what, if you want to look and judge, take a good hard look cuz here it is. Doesn't mean I'm walking around naked owning the room, but I just stay over in my little corner and go about my business. And it is serious business. I mean, this body is now warmed up and I have to get the FCD to roll down over my boobs. It is a work-out in itself. Sometimes I'm trapped there. The FCD is all rolled up under my arm pits and I'm reaching around trying to pull it down, but it won't go. I'm all contorted, belly sticking out, back arched, one arm tugging in the front, one arm tugging in the back, sometimes a full body shimmy is incorporated. My Victoria Secret bra, with way more padding than any girl should attempt, is holding the FCD hostage. I finally get it under control and now I'm sweaty again. Now, it's time to get the nylons back on and try not to snag them. It's an art. You don't just go willy-nilly tugging those bad boys on there. You were lucky to get them on the first time with no snags, but now a second time? You have just reached "dreamer" status. Anyway, I'm just saying, it's like a side-show, but I own it and I put myself back together without shame. This is the body I have, right now, like it or not.
In the midst of my dressing extravaganza, I do catch a glimpse of a person here or a person there. I am always amazed by the smaller girls either taking their stuff into the handicapped bathroom stall to change or huddling in the corner like a homeless waif desperately trying to cover up. Really? We are all women here. Unless you have boy parts that the average woman doesn't have, then I don't think you have anything to worry about. And, who is checking you out? No one. Everyone glances around as they talk and such, but I don't really think anyone is scrutinizing your body. And, another thing, if this saggy, cellulite infested mosh pit of lilly white skin can make a semi-public appearance in the locker room, why can't yours? You take care of it, you look great, why are you shuffling off into the handicapped stall? I'm not saying you should do a runway walk through the locker room, but where is your self-confidence? No body is perfect, even the skinny ones. I don't understand, I guess. Maybe it's just modesty? I'm starting to think that maybe skinny girls have feelings...and body issues, too. I mean, of course they do, right? Maybe in that respect I'm better off than I think? I mean, my husband has seen me naked...with the lights on and in the daytime. That has to count for something. I'm not saying I'm ready to go to a nakie resort or anything, but I am not going to freak if someone sees me naked in a normal situation where people get naked, ie, the locker room, the doctor, my bedroom, etc.
When I think about it, I think my sixth grade locker room trauma may have actually done me a favor in life. There I was, in the locker room in sixth grade. We were required to take showers and we had to get wet in the open showering area and then walk up to the gym teachers office window to get a towel. And, if you were not wet enough, you were sent back to the shower. It was horrifying and humiliating for a girl of 12 years old. Especially a fat girl. And, like as if the kids weren't already mean to me prior to sixth grade, this new middle school little bitch popularity thing was no fun to survive either. So, in my effort to hurry back to my locker to get dressed, I was walking really quickly on a smooth cement floor. I was scampering, almost. You and I both know where this is going. That's right, my wet feet slipped and I went down I went like a fish onto a slab and my fat butt and legs made a slapping sound like no other. Everyone turned to look. So, now, here is a naked fat girl trying to get off a slippery floor with some sort of dignity. It's impossible, just so you know. Survivable, but not possible to hold one's head high after that. I think at that moment I realized, just don't make an issue of it. I'm just going to go about my business. And, if that little pop-tart barbie bitch wearing her Garfield underwear that say Tuesday on the front of them and a non-necessary training bra wants to say something to me, Fuck. Her. I'd rather blend in than run around trying to hide. I mean really, it's like a Buick trying to hide behind a blade of grass. Come on, get real.
And so, back to modern day in the locker room. What are these women so afraid of? What is it about their body that is so horrid they have to go hide, or why are they trying to wrestle a towel and and their clothes at the same time so no one knows they are naked under there? You know what? If I wear my underwear that say, "Bombshell" on the ass of them, I'm going to own it. Check 'em out, ladies. Of course, then you have the other side of it. You do have the Gym Barbies that are all tan, got big hooters and seem to enjoy standing there buck naked talking to you with grand hand gestures. I'm glad she's comfortable, but could you reign it in? I know I just said own it, but I didn't say flaunt it.
Really, what I'm saying is, hey, it's no secret that I hate this skin I'm stuck in. I'm trying to change that and I'm trying to believe in who I am becoming, but I can still stand there and own it. I guess I should be proud that I can, because even some of the prettiest and skinniest of girls can't. As a bigger person, I have spent a lifetime with these body issues and viewing the "skinny bitches" of the world with envy, admiration, hate, jealousy and contempt. I think, maybe I have been too hard on them, or given them too much credit for being "lucky." Life is so much more complex than how we look, it's too bad society is so keen on keeping that in the forefront. Anyway, I'm not going to lie to you, I'm still going to be jealous and I'm still going to watch America's Next Top Model to see skinny bitches in turmoil, but in the locker room, I think maybe I can be a little smug knowing that I'm not hiding in the handicapped stall.
Work it, bitch. (insert finger snap, here)
I can totally relate to this post. In fact, it could have been written by me.
ReplyDeleteWe were required to shower in middle school gym class, too, starting in the sixth grade. Interestingly, you're the first person that didn't go to my middle school that has said that she had to shower in sixth grade gym class, most people have told me that they didn't have to shower in gym class until the seventh grade, or even the ninth grade.
We had the open showers too, and also had to be handed a towel by the gym teacher after we finished showering. We were also sent back into the showers if we didn't stay in there long enough for her liking.
And I agree with you, those open showers in school helped me get over any fear of locker room nudity. It was awkward the first few days of the sixth grade, but after that it was not an issue anymore, which helps now at the Y that I belong to.
Courtney