One of the great perks of my 8 to 5 is that there is an employee only gym upstairs. This is fan-freaking-tastic. There are 2 treadmills, 2 stationary bikes, 2 ellipticals, free weights, and the intimidating machine.
Um, no. I don’t know it’s real name. Never touched the thing. This thing is angry. It has frowny faces on the arms. See?
But I made a new friend. She is not intimidated by the angry faces. In her previous employment, she worked as a personal trainer. She conquered faces like these.
I met her this week. It was a personal growth moment. Often, it is beneficial to step out of a preconceived comfort zone.
I am typically the skinny girl in the gym. The general vibe is skinny bitch. And I deserve the label many times. At least, I did until this week. I guess it has something to do with being transparent about what I feel are my own flaws, but I decided to move beyond the skinny bitch realm this week.
I wear a size 4 generally (ladies’ sizes can be unpredictable). I know that to the vast majority of people, that qualifies as skinny. And generally, when I talk to people that are not built like I am, I say exactly the wrong thing. I don’t mean it that way. I am small framed. I’ve seen many smoking hot size 8 to 10 or 12 girls (Marilyn Monroe comes to mind. And when it gets beyond that, I have no concept of size. Some of these ladies are still HOT.), I DO NOT carry extra weight so gracefully. It gathers around my chin, and I begin to look like my mother. Not that she is not unattractive, but she is carrying extra weight in all the wrong places, just like I do.
All that said, when I see a woman that is 6 inches shorter than I am and obviously outweighs me by 150 to 200 pounds, I get judgemental. I’m generally pretty good at keeping these thoughts to myself, but I know from experience that these ladies are not generally nice to me when I speak to them. I am the skinny bitch.
Call me that, it’s okay. I really can take it.
Early in the week, I arrived at the office gym to find two of my co-workers on the treadmills. One of which is a woman that is about 6 inches shorter than I and outweighs me by a good 150 to 200 pounds. My thought was, “Well at least she is trying to do something.” Complete with emphasis in my head. I really do deserve the bitch title from time to time.
I changed into my workout gear and headed for an elliptical. I could not go into my “zone.” The big girl was teaching the guy. WTF? I tried to go on with my workout but was terribly distracted. They finally moved to the stationary bikes directly to my right, and I started a conversation with her. General pleasantries with the hello and all. Well I soon learned that before she worked in my office, she was a physical trainer. She told me that she worked with chronically obese women. I was confused, but admirably did not express it. She told me that when working with these women she would bring in her before pictures. I could not stop myself. I said with far too much incredulity in my voice, “So what did you look like before?” Yeah. And interjecting before she could respond in a desperate effort not to confirm the skinny bitch stereotype, “I mean, if you don’t mind me asking.”
Thankfully, she took it in the most positive light possible and told me that she had lost 200 pounds before that. And the skinny bitch in my head said, “200 pounds! Holy crap! I’ve never ever weighed 200 pounds!” But what actually came out of my mouth was, “Wow! That’s amazing!” Unfortunately, the skinny bitch was able to manipulate my facial expression.
She told me that she still had 150 to go. After being chastized the skinny bitch in my head still said, “I’ve never even weighed 150 pounds!” She was much quieter this time. Instead I told her that all things considered, that she looked great. Yeah, still a skinny bitch thing to say.
And then I learned that she has a thyroid problem and her medication doesn’t work. If we lived in a perfect world, the floor would have then opened up and sucked me inside. So there I was, the proverbial skinny bitch, completely in awe of this girl that was able to lose 200 pounds. And I was not nice. At least, I didn’t think I was expressing myself nicely at all. I has swallowed my foot, defecated it, and was preparing to swallow it again. And then she offered to teach me about THE MACHINE.
I have now treated a fat girl badly, and she has offered to do something amazingly nice for me. The only thing I could do was accept the offer. And I’m incredibly excited to learn to use the scary machine. Unfortunately, it would still make frowny faces.
I’ve not had my lesson yet and am worried about a lack of tact slipping out. Anyone know of a good seasoning for feet?