I’ve been on a mission to reclaim myself. It hasn’t been easy, but the fact that someone who, perhaps, I haven't met yet might see me in my….um...bathing suit has motivated me beyond belief. (Fear and mortification – we all know its power.)
First, I want to thank the super-duper stomach flu that visited my house on not one but four separate occasions over the holidays- blessing me personally twice. That eight-pound weight loss was a gift I can never repay, and I could not let it go to waste.
To that end, I take my crazy dog on a daily walk up the steep, rocky mountain behind my house. Besides being scared to death by several questionable strangers and falling into the creek once or twice, the hike has brought me a sense of peace and contentment. (It has also brought what used to be my best asset back into view.)
I have also made sure I visit the gym each day. It’s a stone’s throw from my school, so I can find no good excuse to avoid it. (Believe me, I've tried.) I lift the weights, ride the bike, and do at least a million crunches before I head home.
I arrive at the gym around 3:45, which is apparently right before a very popular Body-Pump class that must be attended by anyone who belongs to the gym and has a pulse.
For the last ten years, I have always changed my clothes in the bathroom located inside the locker room. Ladies, I’m sure many of you can identify with that. Well, last week, after finally losing that last 15 pounds, I made a decision.
I changed in the locker room...in front of people. (Lots and lots of people.)
Fortunately I was wearing matching (and pretty cute) undergarments, and tried to believe that I looked as good as I felt. "It's crowded," I thought to myself, "no one will notice me here in the corner." And, as I was stood in my almost nakedness, I heard it. I heard it as I’ve heard it a million times in grocery stores, the coffee shop, my ob-gyn's office, Wal-mart, target and the liquor store.
“Excuse me, but are you the teacher who writes for the paper? I love your column!!” The woman asked politely.
And then, a thousand heads turned to look towards me; in my nakedness.
Now each Sunday as the members of the 4:00 Body Pump class read my column, they’ll be picturing me (mostly) naked.
That’s how I roll, people. That’s how I roll.