I was on my last few repetitions of the row machine at the gym. I looked over at the older woman a few ways down, sweating profusely on the treadmill, and a very svelte white girl doing chin dips. I just wanted to get through these last few rows and eat my granola.
I had joined the gym at my job in January, I was recommitting myself to my health. For one, I was the mother of a very active toddler. And secondly, I didn't want to die. Flat out, I didn't want to die. I had some health scares shortly after joining the gym which required an emergency appendectomy and surgery. So I had been back at the gym steadily for almost two months.
I was already over it. *sigh*
I don't know. I know my body is different since having a baby. Not to say I was Serena Williams before pregnancy (or during because.. Pregnant Serena is still 10 times more in shape than current me). I've never been one to eat badly (Tacos being my only real vice...). Although I am Southern, I cannot stomach eating heavy every single day. And I know my flubber is a) post-baby and b) metabolis and c) inactivity. I need to accept that it is different but that is hard.
I am over 35. Things are just going to be different. I can't wear what young folks wear. I just don't have that kind of confidence. I wish I was Amber Rose but hey.. we all can't be out here showing bush to everyone. I would if I could... trust me. I am all for being body positive.
After the workout, I head to the showers (which give me a real phobia). I stand in the mirror and examine my stomach. It's rolls. My stretch marks (I didn't get many except a few on my hips from the baby... I wasn't "very" pregnant). My lack of behind despite the endless amount of glute work. Then I spend another 15 minutes scrolling through my Instagram full of "baddies" and fitness gurus. I think "I'd fuck them. But who would want to fuck me? Certainly not Lance Gross....."
I can't compare myself to them. They aren't working full time jobs, with a toddler, battling some health stuff. etc. Trying to stay hydrated, keep a husband fed and satisfied, play with a toddler, try and formulate a proposal and work on other writing projects. They aren't living THIS life. They are airbrushed, selectively curated, and trust me, my logical mind knows this. But I still think "Well damn.. no Fashion Nova jeans for me...."
(I do adore Allie McGevna)I realize now that I am plus-sized. I been battling that label for a while.I remember when a dude called me "plus sized" and I was so offended. I was like "man..12/14 can't be plus sized".. but apparently it is. I'm southern. I am small in comparison to most women. At least I fit what is known as a 0 in plus sized stores, so that makes me feel skinny. But even still... I'm not Tocarra plus sized. I am no Ashley Graham (who btw.. has the same body as Toccara yet is making more money than is.). I am not one of the many fly Plus sized bloggers with hour glass shapes.
I have to learn to love this body. Love having sex with it. Love pushing it to the limits working out. Love running around with an 18 month old who is a ball of energy. Love the flaws. Love the chnages. Love what it WILL and WILL NOT look like. I had this fantasy that I'd be a fitness competitor.. ha! Yeah right... I love Tacos too much. I just need to keep the heart pumping, the blood pressure down and the energy up. I need to keep my risks of cancers and diabets down. I just dont want to be a stat.
But it's still so fucking insanely frustrating to not have what you want, right? Shit.. if i could afford a tummy tuck I'd do it. But I have better things to do with my money so Spanx it is...
Imma eat the BBQ this 4th of July weekend. I'll just make sure I walk it off.....