The adventure began with trying to find something to wear. This was a daunting task. Since giving birth I have refused to purchase any new clothing to fit me now. I do not want one single reason to stay at my current weight. All of my gym clothes seem fine to wear around the house on a day to day basis, but Zumba was not just around the house. It was an organized fitness class in front of wall to wall mirrors and people.
Now I understand that what I look like at the gym shouldn't matter. I'm there to work out, not to impress anyone. Normally I would fully agree but since I was going to be looking at myself the entire time, I wanted to look good...for myself. So I put on some black yoga pants, a long black tank, and an American Apparel t-shirt. I touched up my concealer, added a little blush, and even put on some lipgloss. I thought I looked alright. I left the house armed with my gym card, a bottle of water, and all the self-confidence I could muster.
Walking into the class I felt just fine. The instructor was very sweet and unassuming and the class was a mixed bag of ladies from all different fitness levels. I found myself a spot up front off to the side and started shaking my hips to the music. Zumba was fun! It wasn't difficult and I kept up just fine. It was going great until I stopped watching the instructor and started watching myself in the mirror. Let me tell you ladies, it was a major reality check. I did not recognize myself. I guess I have had this idea of what I look like stuck in my head and it didn't match up to the person looking and Zumba-ing back at me. I was fat. My outfit looked frumpy. I had lost my rhythm. Gone was the happy bouncy cheerleader. I was reminded of what it felt like to be in junior high school where I was this curvy, well developed awkward girl in a sea of skinny minis. Now this was all in my head mind you, no one made me feel this way but me. None the less, it was discouraging. I went back to watching the instructor and just gave it my all.
After the class was over I felt amazing. I had a Zumba high and the endorphins were running rampant. I was definitely going to go back. I packed up my stuff and headed for the car. On my way home, the endophins left my body and I was overcome with all of those feelings of discovering myself in the mirror. I'm not going to lie; I cried. At first it was just a little bit. I felt so unattractive, quite possibly the most unattractive I have ever felt. My the time I got home the few tears running down my cheeks had developed into full on sobing. I pulled my car into the garage, gave myself a moment to wallow in my self pity before wiping my face, pulling up the proverbial bootstraps and going inside.
I shared my adventure with my husband. He told me I was beautiful. That is took nine months to get to where I am and that change isn't going to happen over night. He told me he loved me no matter what I thought I looked like. He was right and my moment of wallowing passed. The important thing is that I am doing something about it. I will go back to Zumba. I will wear something that hopefully doesn't make me look so frumpy and I will definitely wear more make-up. But most importantly, I will wear a smile. Because this is only the beginning.
(The picture of Nolan obviously has nothing to do with my post except that this is how I entertained him while I wrote it)
