Muscle Shame

There is a room at the gym that I am terrified of.  It is full of mirrors, questionable machines and very fit people.  I make myself go in there because it terrifies me.  I feel awkward and foolish the entire time, and most likely have a face the color of my Plexus drink.  But still I go.

My gawkiness reached its all time high when I attempted to do a pull up.  I consider myself to be strong.  I do push-ups/sit-ups/lunges etc... often.  But this was a new skill.  A new set of muscles.  And something which proved to be a challenge.  A kind soul was showing me how to do it the amateur way....by just jumping up and grabbing the bar.  She underestimated my ability grossly.  There was no world in which I would be able to pull myself up even a little bit.  I finally compensated with a machine that would hold my knees while I did my inverted pull ups.

I was thoroughly ashamed of my muscles.  Or lack thereof.

My sweet friends assured me that it would take me a while to reach my goal and tat one point they weren't able to achieve it either.

Instead of retreating to the mats where I could safely perform my other exercises, I pressed on.  To my surprise, I became determined to overcome.  Not ashamed of my lack of skill.  (Though my muscles were in a time out for their shameful behavior.)

It was as if looking like a fool motivated me to succeed.

This is a completely new and different arena for me.

Who am I and what have I done with Rebekah?

I have now reached a place in my life where challenging myself is more important than the need to look like I have it together.  I am OK with making a seeming fool of myself if the result is more strength.

I have even reached a point where I am not terrified of people looking at my GB aka Ghetto Booty at the gym.  I have searched for clothes to hide this physical trait, but to no avail.  It has always been an uncomfortable part of my body and I was rid of it only when I was grossly underweight.  So, I am even embracing that gawkiness.  We are good friends now.  Me and GB.

I wish sometimes that I could go back to the afraid, insecure Rebekah who avoided feeling foolish.  But my hunch is, my young self would not appreciate just how massive this growth is because being without it means you don't understand what it means to carry it.

So in all my glorious mess, I embrace gym clothes and the horrid pull up bar.  And very soon I will be able to say that I conquered the crap out of that, too.