Perspectives from a City-fied Southerner

Tyranny of the Scale

I took my first zumba class today. I’m taking my first spinning class this Saturday. I ran five miles yesterday. 

Do I love fitness, you ask? Am I really into working out? Absolutely not. What I am is terrified of gaining weight. 

When I’m taking a realistic look at myself in the mirror, I realize that my body’s size and shape is probably exactly how it is supposed to be. That I will probably never be more toned or more fit than I am right now. 

I don’t often have such realistic moments. 

Normally I look in the mirror and wonder why, despite my hours of working out every week, don’t I have a six pack? The reason of course is because I am not genetically wired to have one! This does little to ease my angst. After all, some of the people on “The Biggest Loser” seem to be able to acquire rock hard abs and they weren’t born with them. 

At what point does this self-antagonization end? And more importantly, if I am aware of how unrealistic my “ab visions” are, why do I still feel like I should strive for what will likely always elude me? 

I think that this is because of two factors: my tendency to believe a recent societal shift in thinking that says that ‘if you work really hard at it, you too can have the abs of Jillian Michaels’ and the fact that this belief has led women to value themselves in large part based on their size. 

We all know how destructive both of these thoughts can be, so why do we continue mentally beating ourselves up every time we eat some french fries and telling ourselves that we shouldn’t ever get to enjoy our favorite desserts. 

No, it’s probably not healthy to eat chips and ranch dip on a daily basis, but if you’re at the family picnic, do you really want to be the person who refuses to eat grandma’s fried chicken? 

I don’t want to be that person. Anymore. 

So here it goes: beginning today, I’m going to try to put an end to negative self-talk and be a little more “body positive”. 

As soon as I typed that last sentence, I pictured myself in a bikini and felt a noticeable amount of dread. If I stop being so hard on myself, am I doomed to become a whale? 

I bet the answer is no. I bet that if I stop thinking rude thoughts about myself and keep making healthy food and exercise choices (most of the time), I will still be the size I’m meant to be. And perhaps a little happier! 

I’m ready to get started with this new challenge! What’s the worst that can happen? 

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