I've been working out over most of my lunch breaks since the end of November. With the exception of a bald weightlifter who's always just ending his "sesh" when I arrive at 1:00 pm on the dot, I am the always the sole person in the fitness room. I was joined later last month by our treadmill-loving, Weight Watcher-supporting HR director - a sweet woman who is just as focused as I am during a workout. I like her. We don't have to talk to each other just because we're in the same room; post-workout pleasantries in the locker room are enough.
BUT TODAY, while I was walking to the fitness room, three other coworkers (who are in another division, so I don't know them by name) are a few steps behind me. I kept praying to myself, "please don't let them come to workout, please...I've been doing this for so long, and they're just working out because it's the new year!"
I went in and did what I always do: I put my water bottle, I-Pod and book on my favorite elliptical machine. This isn't because they're there; it's because I always claim it. I was there first, this is the machine I want, and this is the machine I've had for weeks. When I went into the locker room after filling up my water bottle, I heard them talking over the stalls. From what I could glean, they were being snarky about how I called the machine. They weren't saying it directly, but they were saying stuff like, "Does it really make a difference what machine you use?" and such. I wasn't imagining it. And for further evidence, the two women in stalls were talking freely, and the one at the sink kept her mouth shut because she knew I was there.
It stressed me out. Yeah, it sounds really self-conscious, but I kept thinking, "Goddamnit, I've been here before all y'all. I have a routine. I'm half autistic about it." I kept trying to let it go, but it was eating me up the whole time. The woman who took up the machine next to me went slower while I was burning my shit up. And I wasn't doing it for show; it's my pace. I listen to music, I read my book, and I try to burn at least 500 calories. I wanted to spill my feelings to my cubemates when I came back, but I was afraid of looking petty and gossipy.
Resolvists. They're dirty resolvists. By the end of the month, they'll give up, but for now they're my new enemies.
I know that's a horrible way to see it, but here are the facts:
- All three of these women had no signs of a weight problem. I know that's not up to me, but I think I have some perspective, considering I'm probably at least "a buck-fifty" above any of them.
- They're just working out because this is the first workday of the new year, and they've made resolutions.
- I made my resolution in 4th grade, bitches, so get in line.
Now I have to do one of two things - push my lunch up to 12:45 (which I hate), or take lunch at 2:00, which looks really sleazy; that's way too late to take a lunch break and not look like you're trying buck the system.
The other thing that got me was that after the workout, I was changing in the locker room when I heard one of them say, "[The HR director] is really keeping up with it." I kind of wanted to cry, or say, "I've been keeping up with it, too..." Neither were viable options. Had they come into the locker room 5 minutes earlier, they would have heard the HR director and I talking about the holidays and how it's good we're both sticking to our fitness guns.
I guess it all comes down to this: It really bothers me that people look at me and think that I don't diet, or work out, or really try to lose weight. The truth is, my weight, my diet, and my excercise regimen are all I think about. It's all I've thought about as a mature adult for 7 years now. They see me at 300 lbs and think, "Jesus Christ, she needs to get some self-control." That's all I've been doing this whole time - trying to take control. I've probably worked out more in the past few years than many of the people I meet in passing, and I don't think that's an overestimation either. I like to be in motion. One of my coworkers even said, "I've never seen you move slowly."
I don't like when people see me as a resolvist, that the only reason I go into an athletic store is because I've made some decision to excercise that I'll never stick to. Case in point, I went to Sports Authority tonight, and no one offered to help me. No one. And I looked up and down the 7 floors trying to find shit I needed. Normally these people are all over your ass, right? They were certainly interested in others that came through the doors. I wanted warm hiking socks. I wanted a new sport bottle. I wanted a yoga mat. And I had to flag a guy down to get the correct price on the mat I wanted. This was the same guy that hovered around the 7th floor elevator clearly to greet customers, but when I arrived, he considered me for a moment and turned the other way. No fooling.
And believe it or not, the same thing happens every time I go into Sephora, the uppity makeup haven in the Nordstrom Mall. I've been there at least 5 times to make decent and informed purchases, but every time I come in, some queen or another glosses over me after one look to fawn over the other customers coming in the door behind me.
These are the same people that turn me off of meatmarket gyms. Fuck these people - I got more commitment in my big toe, and more make-up free beauty in my Meyer cheekbone than they have personality.
So there's that,