The Water Torture

Tonight I put myself through a highly traumatic experience: I tried on swimsuits.

I've successfully avoided this painful task for a number of years.  As an unapologetic city dweller, my access to swimming pools or any bodies of water is extremely limited.  I never swim.  When I do go to the beach I wear shorts and tank tops, thusly minimizing body exposure and still getting tan on the parts other people will see.

As a fitness instructor, I've got a pretty nice body.  I work damn hard at maintaining my physique and I'm really proud of the fact that I'm fit.  But it's one thing to display said great body when it is fully clothed.  It's another thing should I be so lucky to have an intimate moment with a special man who is granted access only after, ostensibly, he demonstrates he likes more about me than whether I have a six pack.  Plus that usually takes place in the dark and/or is shrouded by sheets.  But it is an entirely different situation altogether to be clad in a square of toilet paper, with my private lumps and bumps on display.

Lately it's come up for me over and over again that the only person who thinks so much about me is, apparently -- me.  And possibly an ex boyfriend with a detachment problem but that's another post.  The point is that nobody is looking at either my lumps nor my bumps and those are solely there as fuel for my own personal self loathing.  I appreciate how terribly self involved it is to feel the hot stinging slap of shame on my face when facing the three-way mirror, wrenching my neck backwards trying to decide whether a man would look at me and call me a "Butterface."  (By the way, I'm single, there are no dating prospects in my life and I'm not looking - so how in God's green earth my brain factors in the need for approval from a hypothetical man is a real stretch even for me.)

PS the purpose of this little swimsuit shopping trip has nothing to do with the beach or vanity.  I recently added a certification to my fitness instruction resume to teach water classes.  I already teach spinning and have all the appropriate garments for this purpose.  Taking the water classes is no big deal - I'm in the water so after a speedy trip from the locker room with a towel around my waist, I hop into the water as quickly as I can so nobody can see what's really happening in the assular region.  Water classes are populated mostly with women anyway so it's a "safer" environment.  I've been taking classes from a number of my fellow instructors so I can brush up on different teaching styles and I put together an audition.  I mentioned it to the Monday teacher and talked about challenges to get into the pool to practice, fighting for space with the hard core triathletes doing laps.  So she mentioned I could team teach with her next week.  Great!  I relish any opportunity to practice my teaching skills and expand my marketability at the gym.  I'm excited!  Right?

Then we got into the water and started doing the class.  My swimsuit bottoms were flapping around in the water and I realized I was taking my focus off the workout to adjust.  I'd never put a ton of thought into this getup because what I look like during the class isn't important as the exercises are performed submerged in the water.

But the teacher leads the class out of the water.  And I realized I needed to address my wardrobe pronto.

Hence, the said shopping trip that caused such distress today.

I first went to Old Navy because their workout clothes look so cute in those quirky ads on TV.  I should have known better because any time I go into an Old Navy dressing room, even on a day when I feel tip top about myself, I come out feeling like the fattest fattie in the fat camp.  I don't know what it is - the lighting?  The way their pants fit?  It's a total mystery especially considering they are owned by The Gap where I always spend $100 on cute new items for my closet that I completely didn't need.  But I forgot about my Old Navy boycott and after trying on several different styles and options, each making me look lumpier and bumpier than the next, I vowed never to darken the door of another one of those stores again.

I tried looking at my very favorite stores, Forever 21 and H&M.  I never hesitate to purchase an armload of cute tops from either of those places, but the bottoms are really made for teenagers and no matter how beautifully fit my body is, I am 41 years old and the Forever 21 ship sailed a long time ago for my lower half.  I thought there might be an exception considering the workout clothes are made of stretchy material but to no avail.  Something about the way the garments are cut.

So I ambled into the good old standby, The Gap, and was thrilled to be taken off course noting that the skinny pants were all on sale for $30 apiece.  I bought a number of items I'd needed but not said swimsuit.  I'd experienced enough trauma staring at my untanned ass at the Nazi interrogation station in the Old Navy dressing room that I figured some soothing was in order.

The distraction was nice and I certainly enjoyed wearing a new outfit to work today.  But the mission remained unaccomplished and time was beginning to run out.  Plus I accidentally tore the seam in the swimsuit bottoms I wore on Monday rendering them unacceptable for any future use.

I got out of work a little early today, determined to find a solution.  Of course, like a dumbass, I went back to Old Navy.  I rationalized - maybe the other day I wasn't in quite the right frame of mind?  Plus they've got those cute boy short bikini bottoms and that looks like it has more ample coverage and is more appropriate for teaching fitness anyway.  I went in, tried some things on and it was exactly the same experience.  Little beads of sweat formed on my forehead, I spent all sorts of time adjusting and riding up and pulling down and sucking in and blinking back tears.  I started to have flashbacks to shopping at the mall with my mom and my sister and no matter how agreeable I tried to be, my sister always baited my mom into an argument and by the time we were done, she was so frustrated with both of us that the entire excursion ended in tears.  I was near tears, frankly - even the boy shorts were just, well ... "doing."  It was no use.  I threw my hands up in surrender, put my street clothes back on, tucked my ego back into a pocket and got on the train to come back home.

I remembered seeing some of the female triathletes wearing a really conservative, athletic-looking Nike two piece and I figured I'd make a last-ditch attempt to pick up something along those lines at Sport Mart (or whatever, I can never remember if it's Sport Mart or Sports Authority and I'm not sure that's really germane to the topic).  Once I got in there I felt a little more in my realm surrounded by fitness clothes.  There were boy shorts just like I'd envisioned but they were more like running shorts and they had more coverage.  I selected literally every single style they had in both Medium and Large, as well as the athletic bikini that inspired this journey in the first place.  It took some time to pack up my arm with all of the available options but I was determined.  I spent almost an hour in the dressing room (which has far less unflattering lighting, mind you), and I finally narrowed it down to one pair of shorts and one tank that's properly tight to cement everything into place.  I think this outfit will let me project the proper professional image and it won't force me into a hunger strike the next five days leading up to the blessed teaching event.

I came home greatly distressed and promptly called one of my gay boyfriends to relay the experience.  I can always trust him to put it in the proper perspective and he told me I was koo-koo for having any negative opinions about my body - even if I weighed 10 or 15 pounds more than I do now, who gives a shit?  I am a great person, I'm emotionally healthier than this - to obsess so much about how I look?  Please - I've worked damn hard to achieve this level of fitness and to earn the right to be a fitness instructor in the first place and I have so much to be grateful for and to celebrate.  Listen, I'd like to tell you I handle my emotions flawlessly and have only positive, self-actualized thoughts in my head about me, and have an iron-clad constitution able to withstand any potential negative self talk that goes on.  I don't - and I try to conjure spiritual practices, but sometimes I just need the help of a friend to help return my ego back to its proper size.  And there's nothing wrong with gay male approval, particularly when that comes accompanied with him singing Christina Aguilara's "Beauiful" to me (just the chorus - it really cheered me up).

So, all better now.  Crisis averted.  Right?

***************************

I would like to say that this is my first blog post back after an unplanned hiatus due to a hacker who forced the disbanding of my previous blog, "Hey, Punch My Abs."  Since that time I started grad school, have remained steadfastly single despite a handful of extremely awkward dates with odd men, work has been super busy and I've been teaching spinning at the gym.  I've been pretty busy and there are so many wonderful things in my life sometimes I pinch myself.  Last year at this time I'd just moved out from living with my boyfriend of 3 1/2 years, and was trying to decide whether I should break up with him or not.  I was working LITERALLY 100 hours a week at this hard core corporate job where I'd long before sold my soul to the devil.  I wasn't eating.  I cried all the time.  And I had these dreams of becoming a fitness instructor and a writer that felt so unattainable - it felt like I'd never be able to have the time to pursue them.  I quit that corporate job to take a work-from-home position which I knew instinctively wasn't the right fit but frankly, I needed a paid summer vacation.  I rested up just enough to withstand the next life curveball: they fired me ... because they didn't like me.  After finally - FINALLY - breaking up with my boyfriend and dealing with the stress of leaving that big fancy job, my emotional resources were kind of spent up so when I got fired, I was a little bit of a mess.  Plus I had already been spending kind of too much time at home so I just had a little bit of a hard Indian Summer there.  I didn't sit on my ass crying all of the time, though.  I spent a lot of time working on my fitness at the gym.  I pursued one of my dreams and got certified to teach fitness.  I auditioned at my gym and was hired on as a spinning instructor - that, in and of itself, is a really cool story.  And I started training people for some extra income while I looked for a job.  Training people was such a wonderful experience and I hope that someday I can go back to it.  I did get another job, this time with more reasonable hours and a social justice mission AND it's at a university so I get to pursue my graduate education for free.  I say all of this to say that I've been living with all of these wonderful blessings now for awhile and it's time to re-introduce my creative passion into my life.  I hope you enjoy what I've got to say and I look forward to hearing your feedback, too.  Comment liberally - I love the affirmations!