I’ve always thought the whole
”
Love Your Body
”
campaign is a grand and noble gesture. If you aren’t familiar
with it, NOW, the National Organization of Women, has been trying
to rally girls and women to reject all of the beauty standards that
the media tries to get us to buy into. And, like most women, I have
tons of bitter rant material I could go on and on about, when it
comes to fake media images setting impossible beauty standards.
I’ve always thought the whole “Love Your Body” campaign is a grand and noble gesture. If you aren’t familiar with it, NOW, the National Organization of Women, has been trying to rally girls and women to reject all of the beauty standards that the media tries to get us to buy into. And, like most women, I have tons of bitter rant material I could go on and on about, when it comes to fake media images setting impossible beauty standards. I agree that it’s about time for women to stay home, break out the Godiva chocolate, and learn to love their bodies just the way they are.
Yeah, right.
Oh, okay, I may sound sarcastic, but it’s not because I don’t believe in this particular philosophy; I do. It’s just that it’s a hard concept to imagine embracing. While I don’t exactly hate my body, I don’t exactly love it either. In relationship-speak, my body and I are what you would call “warily just friends.” That said, I do appreciate the nice things my body has done for me over the years. Like, say, giving me healthy children, fighting off countless infections and holding my brain in my head.
But, that said, I can’t help seeing my “self” and my body locked into a perpetual power struggle. I mean, as any daytime talk show host will be you, trust is a big part of love. And, hey, bodies can’t be trusted. They trip over things, they morph into different shapes when you’re not paying attention, and sometimes they leak. Not to mention the true body disasters, like vomiting and incurable diseases.
However, I accepted our shaky relationship for what it was, that is until last week, when my body turned on me by betraying my long held assumption of always being A Certain Size.
Now while this may not seem like a particularly earth shattering betrayal to you, it was enough to make a person like me join the nearest gym.
Yes, I said “gym.”
Now, this is no big deal for some people. But keep in mind that I’m the sort of person who puts going to the gym on my list of Things To-Do, somewhere between having a medication free root canal and going bungee jumping.
Let me just stop here and say it’s not that I have anything against gyms. We all know that exercise helps lower blood pressure and increases bone density and all that. However, it’s not like you can become a member and viola! You’re in shape. You are expected to GO. And lift things. And sweat.
And, lo and behold, my suspicions were correct. Once at the gym, a personal trainer, who I’ll call Liz, cheerfully explained all about the classes and how the machines worked.
As she told me about reps and weights and heart rates and all that, several important things occurred to me like, for instance, what if I get tangled in the bow flex machine and tied into a knot? Has anyone ever been catapulted backwards off the treadmill? Does my insurance cover elastic band injuries? Just how long does it take for an ambulance to get here, anyway? And, most importantly, where is the latte machine?
But, just when I was thinking that it would be much faster and safer to call the whole thing off and go buy a “Love Your Body” bumper sticker, a miracle of sorts happened. Liz looked down at my feet and said the four most beautiful words in the English language: You’ll need different shoes.
This was not only permission to buy new shoes, it was a necessity.
I immediately signed up.
And, no, not only because I got new shoes, but because I could then say hip things like, “Well, I’m going to The Gym.” And: “Oh look, I’m late for THE GYM.” And: “I’d love to, you know, but I’m off to THE GYM.”
Of course, I haven’t actually said any of these things yet because I’ve been so busy shopping that I haven’t had time to go yet.
But, no matter. I’ll get to the gym eventually. Just as soon as I find the perfect Lycra top to go with the navy blue workout pants that I found to match my shoes.
Hey, sometimes exercising is hard work.
