This may be triggering for some people.
The other day I was in the garage, walking on my treadmill. It’s a reasonably airy area when the door is open, fair bit of space, people could see in if they were walking past. Usually it doesn’t bother me. Usually I have the attitude (fattitude?) of, “Fuck you, I love this,” But for some reason, the other day, when a bunch of young people (listen to me, I sound ancient!) walked by, I stopped the treadmill and hid around the corner until they were gone. When I was sure they left, I crept over to the garage door and closed it. Only then, did I get back on the treadmill.
What was I afraid of? Why did I do it? Where did my attitude go?
I think it might be that I’m still in my beginning stages of fat acceptance. I wasn’t always accepting of my body, I wasn’t always non-judgemental of other people’s bodies. I cared far too much about what people think of me.
There’s still a part of me that does, obviously. There’s still a part of me that lets the fear of what people would say dictate what I do. There’s still the voice in my head. That contradictory voice that tells me that I don’t deserve to be fit and fat, that it has to be one or the other and why are you eating that pastry anyway, stop stuffing your face, fatty. You don’t deserve ‘junk’ food.
I hate gyms. I hate group exercise. I now hate exercising out in public. Some of it is fear of judgement and ridicule (or worse), some of it is monetary issues, and the rest is that I am a solitary person. I am perfectly happy to do things by myself. I prefer it.
I did used to exercise outside. I got tired of the catcalls, the stares. I never got catcalled when I went with my father, but his health issues prevented him from going out every day. So, I didn’t feel safe by myself, no matter the time of day, even with my dog in tow. It wasn’t fair.
Then my father bought me a treadmill. I loved it. If it were legal and entirely not creepy, I would marry it. I feel strong when I run on it. My various issues fade away when I’m there. Except for the other day.
I’m working on it. Truly I am. I went downstairs yesterday and I’m going down today and I’m leaving the garage door open. If someone walks past I will nod hello. If someone jeers, I will ignore them. I can’t keep living with the fear of ridicule. It’s boring and annoying and I am to be and feel like neither. I will accept that I’m fit. And I’m fat. So what?
Sonya! I used to love running, but now that I’m filling out again, I’m too scared to go out and do it in public (maybe because my physio told me I look really unco when I run)
Then I realised that when I’m out and see people exercising, I don’t even notice or CARE how big they might be. Hrmmm
I’m sure it’s legal to marry your treadmill somewhere in the world…
The catcalls bothered you? Usually they just make me laugh – but then I’m the kinda girl that laughs when somebody flashes me on the train. Boy, was he disappointed.
I hate gyms, too. And I’m too uncoordinated for group sports. But I love walking, especially out in nature. And I’ve recently discovered I love rock climbing too, enough that I don’t care if I look like a complete idiot in a harness.
Good luck with the treadmill, and remember to be gentle with yourself. Ignoring people is HARD WORK. And draining. I would find a way that I could use the treadmill without having to face that. Not because I want to hide, but because I like to choose when I want to be loud and proud. And when I need to honour my solitude.
hugs!
k
How rude of your physio! I think that the right technique is important, sure, if only to make sure you don’t hurt yourself, but to say you look unco? Rude!
This is something I’ve been taught (that I am definitely working on): People? They don’t care. They’re too busy worrying that they themselves look like idiots to pay attention to the fact that you might look like one. It’s funny how much we scrutinise ourselves, but wouldn’t do it to someone else.
Hahaha, well, if a woman can get married to the Berlin Wall …
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Great piece Sonya and I’m really proud of your strength and inner resolve!
Another great post. I can totally picture the garage scene (it sounds like something I would do for another situation). Self-acceptance is a progress and I am currently going to allow myself to undergo this process. Because there are two things:
It can always be worse
Things happen for a reason
You’re right it is annoying and boring to be constantly scrutinizing one’s self and worrying about judgement. We should just be and be happy with ourselves and concentrate on using our strengths to help others and achieve great things.
I really loved your last paragraph, it sounded very poetic and inspiring. Amen to leaving the door open!
kazari, on the surface, they don’t bother me much, but inside I’m usually all: “Why did they say that? What gives them the right? Why do they think it’s ok to yell out, when I’m trying to get in my zone?” And if I’m in a truly ick mood, it will be “Why me?” It’s another issue I know I have to work on; I need to practice being a confident person in this regard! Thank you for the gentle reminder! I know I need that. I’m going to continue doing what I do, because I love doing it.
Kathleen, thank you!
lala, I was so embarrassed when I did it. I felt like I took a step back. But it is a progress, and sometimes we have setbacks. I guess all we can do is acknowledge them, explore the issue and try to move on and learn. And thank you.
Hello Sonya and kazari,
Catcalls should bother you. They are rude, invasive and most often gender-specific whether they are expressing ‘appreciation’ or expressing rejection. The ‘appreciative’ catcalls are often a form of misogyny – a disrespectful attitude towards women. If a straight man catcalls another man, he’s probably being aggressive. There are ways to be appreciative of a woman’s beauty or sexuality that are respectful and invited.
This catcalling thing, which really isn’t bad in Australia compared to NY, is one of the reasons I’m so down on women having their boobs pushed up and popping out all the time. I feel like it’s saying to men women are here for you to oggle. Go ahead stare at me, think about fucking me and let me know by giving me a catcall. Now I feel sexy and powerful.
Right on!
Love this piece Sonya! And you know how much I dig the word “fattitude”.
Thank you, Kath! I figured you’d appreciate it.
Rachel F – thanks for the validation. I sometimes feel like I’m being ‘silly’ for getting upset it, and then I get angry at myself for thinking it’s silly. I rather hate the conditioning that the feelings have lead to — that I should accept it, that I’m being silly, it’s a compliment. Yeah, no, it’s not. It’s an expression of power.
I can’t say I agree with the being down on boobs out, though. I don’t believe having boobs or having them out (hey, some fat chicks [even slimmer women] can’t help having them up and out. Are they supposed to wear men’s t-shirts all day every day?) gives anyone the right to comment on them. And, I mean, I’ve been ogled and catcalled when wearing big baggy t-shirts, no makeup and little dresses, face full of makeup — makes no difference.