Senior year of high school I started working out for a boy. Into the
summer, I listened to Jimmy Eat World on my Walkman and ran my heart
out. I hoped that if I could look a certain why, that boy would like me.
Continuing
into my Freshman year of college, I kept working out for that boy. I
hated running. Hated it. But I still did it to change my body.
For the record, that boy never professed his undying love. Ever. He never even took me on a date.
I
kept working out, though. And instead of working out for that boy, I
started working out for the numbers on the scale. At one point, my
boyfriend in Freshman year actually told me I should gain weight. Bless his heart.
Eventually
my obsession with working out dwindled. Honestly, I was so poor in
college I couldn't afford to eat much, and in turn couldn't afford to
burn extra calories at the gym. I didn't have a car so walking to/from
and around campus was sufficient exercise.
Then I found
Yoga. Or did Yoga find me? I can't be sure. All I remember is starting
my practice twice a week at the University drop-in classes and finding
myself in love. Yoga gave me cardio, strength training, and peace of
mind. Then I added two academic classes to my regime so I could practice
four times a week.
FOUR TIMES A WEEK! I can't imagine having that kind of time again for Yoga.
The point, though, is that once I found Yoga I started working out for me. Not for a boy. Not for a certain number on the scale. For me. So I could feel good about myself.
To
this day, I still work out for me. Not for a pair of pants to fit. Not
for a curve in my hips to disappear. For me. Too many people I know are
stressing about losing the "last few pounds" until they reach a target
weight. Then there's frustration when those pounds hang on. Did you ever
stop to think that maybe your body is trying to tell you something?
Maybe those "last few pounds" actually belong to your body. Instead of
trying to lose them to achieve a certain weight, it might be time to
embrace them. Tone them. Put them into a pair of pants that fit,
regardless of their size.
The journey to accepting my
body has been a tough one, especially after having a baby and then
finding my flabby self teaching Pilates classes a mere 6 weeks
post-partum. It's intimidating to feel so exposed. But here's the thing-
if you're not truly working out for yourself then you're never, ever going to be satisfied.
