SEEING MYSELF THROUGH CARNIVAL MIRRORS

It took half of my life to learn to physically accept myself. I say half my life as I don’t anticipate living to 100 years-old. My Dad reinforced this though on my 45th birthday asked me how does it feel to start climbing down the mountain of life. I strongly believe I love people for their character and can truly see beyond stereotypes of those different than myself. That being said, why was it hard for me to physically accept myself.

I have an uncanny knack to be able to spin a negative to something positive on a dime. I can hear my high school English teacher and seeing her arms being thrown up in the air and screaming my name in despair. I’m sorry Ms. Schott for the cliché, but if the shoe fits, I do have to wear it. Oops … I did it again!!! Let’s try it again. I like to find the positive in all and in all that I do than focus on the negative…

but…

when it comes to me.

I have always been the fat kid who didn’t like team sports. I enjoyed and still enjoy doing outdoor activities just not team sports. I never liked competing with others or being the center of attention. To complicate matters, I didn’t like watching sports on television apart from a few competitions in the Olympics. Unlike other boys my age, I couldn’t relate to other boys when all they started to talk about was the latest sports season’s plays and scores. I still don’t care much for competitive or professional sports and watch a handful of professional baseball or hockey games and my few Olympic events. As my friends know, I can enjoy a Super Bowl party simply for the food and a corner of the couch with a good book and be totally zoned out of all the sensory excitement around me.

So … my acceptance of my physical me, came slowly with time.

I work at the YMCA and have done continuously since I was 14. I always had accessibility to a pool, wellness center, exercise classes and other classes promoting a healthier physical me. It was not what I ate but how much I ate. Portion control has always been an issue for me. If one was good, two or more must be better. As my position and responsibilities grew at the Y, so did my waistline. Going to school full-time and having a job I became increasingly acclimated to more of a sedentary lifestyle. I found more excuses for my weight gain than solutions.

It was not until my Dad was diagnosed with a second round of cancer I decided it was important to get some kind of structured physical routine into my life. It was not because I looked in the mirror and said, “Wow! look how fat I become.” but more like “I really need an outlet for stress.” I determined I cannot continue to eat how I ate, sleep restlessly or find other negative ways to handle the stress of what was going on with my Dad, my academics and my newly growing career.

It took every bit of my gumption to walk into my home Ys wellness center and ask a personal trainer to help acquaint me to this new intimidating environment. First thing, my senses where overwhelmed with loud music and whirling equipment, a distinguished stench of sweaty bodies and the bright lights flashing from televisions. This quickly followed by the uncomfortable feeling of being winded and out of shape after doing a treadmill for the first time for 10 minutes at a ridiculously slow speed and then being called out by a senior citizen member. This active older member looked at me and with her stern face told me I am young enough to be her youngest grandson and I should be ashamed that “an old lady like her can put me away.” I swallowed my awkwardness and continued to let the personal trainer continue introducing me to exercise machines with weights (back then we called it Nautilus). By the time I finished my first day I was not only drenched in sweat, but filled with embarrassment at my failure and bound to be in dreadful pain from the little workout I managed to do in a half hour.

Notwithstanding, I did return the next day. I hung out my emotions to dry, put on a courageous smile and attempted to go at it once more.

Fast forward years, I have become good friends with this older member who held me accountable over the years. When I grow up, I want to be like her, when I become her age, I wish to lead an active life filled with both physical activity and a social life with gaps filled with humor and humility. There were times I had to drop off my workout routine as my life got in the way of my living, but I always managed to return to the gym. Each time, Sarah was there welcoming me back and greeting me with her wicked smile and offering me her words of wisdom and encouragement.

Through time, I have learned to accept the fact that I will never be the guy with a six-pack abs but maybe the one who might drink a six-pack of my favorite beverage. I know I won’t be the one who looks forward to waking up at 4:30am to be able to go to the gym for my daily workout before work. I am by far not the one who will say I get psyched for my workouts, but I will be first one to tell you, over time each and every one of my personal trainers have pushed my body to the point of no return. I have not only become physically stronger in strength, endurance and flexibility but I find myself and my mind in a better place when I do workout every day. Despite being able to point out the positives in others, I find myself my worst critic to find all the negatives in me. 

With the test of time, I still go workout and have gained increased confidence in physically accepting myself.   Yet, I silently still see myself as this fat kid who grew up but still fights the demons of portion control and find ways for physical acceptance a challenge despite seeing the positives which makes me the whole person I am today and would much more likely to enjoy a good meal than a good workout.

 

 

 

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