Weight 254.2 lb.
Ah, sweat. I do it so well. I do it so often. I’m often covered in it. I know this is kinda disgusting, but one is really supposed to sweat at the gym, or your really just wasting your time. And besides, I come from good sweating stock as both my mother and my father would be red faced and pouring in no time flat. These are my defenses- are they working?
The fact that I even need defenses speaks to just how embarrassing it is to sweat. I mean, as a girl, you’re really just supposed to glisten and even then only occasionally. But no, I actually really do sweat. And yesterday, at the gym, I was in full-on sweaty girl mode when I ran into a student at the gym. And then another. And then still a third. And each student was gracious and excited to see me and did not seem to notice or judge the fact that I was a red-faced, sweaty, stinky, kinda gross mess. They didn’t seem to care that I was wearing spandex pants and a sweaty cotton t-shirt or that my hair was sticking out in 6 directions- a look I never would have braved wearing to school, no matter what the “Spirit Day” was that week (and honestly, what could the “Spirit Day” be to justify that wardrobe? Rock Climber Day? I mean, I’ll do Pajama Day with the best of them, but come on…) I guess these students just chalked it up to the whole being-at-the-gym experience and let it go. It was still kinda embarrassing though.
And then this morning, my wonderfully fit mother wanted to go for a bike ride with me. But first, since she is so fit and I am so very not, she rode the 12 mile loop around the airport solo and then had me meet her. And after 6 miles together, I looked over at her with my beet red face and huffed “How ya doing?” while she serenly smiled back, not a hair out of place. At the bitter end, after what seemed to me to be a grueling 12 mile ride, she sailed into the parking lot like the picture of biking perfection. Seriously, they could have taken her picture right then and used it as an ad campaign for biking in America. Meanwhile, I’m huffing and puffing behind her just hoping that this ride will finally end. I had never sweat so much in my life- literally covered in it. I almost look like I had showered in sweat, as my hair and clothes were so soaked, but she looked perfect, hardly even glistening, despite the ridiculously hot temps and the 24 miles she had just finished. Maybe I don’t get my sweating from my mother.
The last two days have been a study in embarrassment. It’s not cute or sexy to look like you might die from the physical strain of your workout. But it is exhilarating to do things you heretofore did not fully believe you could actually do, like complete a weight lifting circuit workout or bike 12 miles with your mom. I mean, I suspected I could do it, but I wasn’t really sure, and I was too afraid or too embarrassed to try. So, yeah, sometimes this whole attempt to lose weight leads me to embarrass myself. Quite often in fact. But it also allows me to push myself and overcome obstacles that were only ever in my own head, left there because of my fear of embarrassment. And that, my friends, is truly a victory. That truly makes the sweat sweet.