A weighty matter
Published Wednesday, February 2, 2011 9:10PM EST
I am one of those people who used to have an absolute hatred for the gym. Growing up, my only form of exercise came from running around in the woods and prancing around the occasional dance class. This worked out fairly fine until I hit puberty and almost overnight, I exploded into womanhood. In fact, I still have the stretchmarks scattering my body as proof of this event.
For the next ten or so years, my body and I were in an official fight. I would often feed it unhealthy things like chips and pizza and my body would give me the middle finger by adding on a few more pounds. Then, in my mid-twenties I reluctantly decided to call a truce and joined a gym.
At first, I absolutely loathed it. I felt resentful of everything and everyone in that cluttered, sweaty, metallic zone. But slowly, as I began to see changes in my body -- my heart warmed up a bit. Today, I go to the gym regularly – not so much because I'm trying to achieve something, but because I like to feel strong and I love the way it calms my overactive mind. Most especially – I like to be able to eat whatever I feel like eating and still be friends with my ass.
Which is why I was so irritated when I showed up for a "fitness assessment" yesterday at my gym and was basically told I'm nearly 10lbs heavier than my "goal weight".
At first I was just kind of stunned and found myself nodding at this guy like an idiot. Now I wish that I knocked him over the head with the scale and said: "ACCORDING TO WHO???!!".
Don't get me wrong – I think having goals in any part of life is usually a great thing. What bothered me about this experience was the presumption that I couldn't possibly be content with my current weight.
Being in the world of television, I'm acutely aware of the pressures on women to be super thin. I'm also aware of the ways in which those pressures seep down into the rest of the world. We've become totally nuts about weight - just take a look at the covers of every tabloid magazine in the grocery store line. Every celeb is apparently either just a bit "too fat" or "too thin". Who the hell is deciding this? Maybe it's that dude who did my assessment perhaps?
Point being, I do know that I could work harder at my diet and exercise regime and achieve results that would make me happy. But I also know I will always be happiest when I feel strong, healthy and able to celebrate in being alive with a great meal and a fantastic glass of wine (or two). My ass totally agrees with me.
And I prefer to listen to my ass over some gym asshole.