ballerina, beyonce, body image, brandi chastain, chelsea piers, fat, femme, gym, hot, lesbian, LGBT, model, new york sports club, paradise pirate, playboy, Queer, sasha fierce, sexy, soccer, work out, working out
This morning I was working out and realized I was the only brunette. The girls running next to me were all blonde and lithe. One tall girl I work out with every day. I call her “Dayum Girl” as in “Dayum Girl, you are smokin’ hot!” or “Dayum Girl, you make me wish I could play sports so I could join your soccer team” or “Dayum Girl, I don’t know if I want to sleep with you or BE you.” (See my last post for more about that, apparently I have this problem a lot)
Dayum Girl really is on a soccer team, she’s also an aspiring model. There are a few of those. There are also a couple of Black Swan style ballerinas. Watching them use the treadmill bars to stretch before and after a workout is pretty exciting. (Umm not that I’m watching) I would expect to be surrounded by those types of girls at say Chelsea Piers or NY Sports Club, which boasts Beyonce as a member.
Buuuuut I don’t belong to a fancy gym. I use the gym in my apartment building. It has a small weight room, plenty of cardio machines and is walled in by mirrors and TVs. Which blows for someone like me, who avoids mirrors at any and all costs.
There are a few reasons I avoid mirrors:
– My Sicilian grandmother believes that if you look at a mirror in the dark, the devil will come out.
– I saw that movie “Candyman” waaaay too young. The way it works is, if you say Candyman into a mirror three times he will come out and then bees will sting you to death while he watches or something. I don’t know but it left a lasting impression, okay? I’m a scaredy cat. Deal.
– I don’t like looking at myself. At all. Body image issues blah blah blah. I can barely look in the mirror long enough to get my hair or makeup done and even that I prefer doing in as little light as possible. Sound crazy? Yes. But haven’t you been reading this blog long enough to know that already?
I have to go to the gym. I love eating and if I didn’t hit the gym hard, I would probably qualify to be a contestant on the Biggest Loser. Now that Halloween is coming up I’m in panic mode. Why? Because I’ve committed to wearing this costume:
So yeah. Working out everyday.
So every morning I am surrounded by blonde models and ballerinas and mirrors. I choose to look at it this way: if you can’t beat ‘em join ‘em. If you stop going to the gym because you feel like you are being judged on not being at the End Game of your fitness, you will never get there. And I bet if you asked any of those models at the gym, you would find out they are insecure too.
…Okay, that was totally a lie. They know they are hot. But you get the point. Gym-timidation: The best way to conquer it is to fake it till you make it.