Changing the dialogue

I hate pity. I really do.

So when I made the decision to first join a gym, it was agonizing for me. I was convinced, absolutely convinced, that everyone would be looking at me. Critiquing me. Pitying me.

Look at that poor fat girl. She's trying so hard.

It's why I never went for walks, or for bike rides. It's why I didn't want to go out alone. In a group, I could blend in. With another person, I could talk and laugh, looking so carefree and fun-loving that nobody would ever think to pity me. Just a couple of folks out for a stroll.

But alone? I'm just that poor fat girl, sweating, red-faced.

Joining the gym was hard for me. It was stepping into a room of judgement, full of athletes. Full of mirrors.

I knew that my first session with my trainer was going to be a challenge. I had met him only once before, for my evaluation, and he didn't yet know what I was able to do. The first exercise we did was simple: stepping up with one leg onto a bench, bringing up the other foot, tapping the toe, then stepping back down with the same leg.

It was one of the hardest things I've ever done. The bench was nearly knee-high on my 5'2" body and my torn ACL made it difficult to find the right way to step. I was unsteady on my feet, shaking with each step. I was hunched over ungraciously as the sweat dripped into my eyes, and J hovered nearby, arms outstretched, ready to catch me if I fell.

All the while, I was acutely aware of my position. I was front and center, dozens of cardio machines pointing forward. Right at me. Fat girl.

The next night, when I hobbled into the gym for a visit with the elliptical, I took a good look around. There were elderly men and young women, people my size and people much smaller, some succeeding and some struggling. They were all there for a reason, just like me.

They all have a journey.

And I realized that none of them are judging me. They may look at me and wonder, just as I do them, but they have their own story. They don't care about mine. We're just strangers in a gym, all of us trying to become better.

When I went home, I put away the old words and I found a new dialogue. That night, the poor fat girl disappeared. I haven't seen her since.

I'm just a stranger in the gym, becoming better.