I’m not gonna lie. I’m a lottle( a mix between a little and a lot) apprehensive about joining a class offered at the local gym. Truth be told I wanted to wear my shades while I did my workout. Not necessarily for glamour but security. I’m uncomfortable in my skin. I love to dance. I love Zumba. I worry that I won’t be able to keep up. I love pilates.I worry that they’ll think I don’t belong. Literally sweating like a prostitute in church. Folks know I should be there but secretly judging. Monitoring my form. Watching me wander around looking for the appropriate machine and trying to figure out how to operate it. I guess like the first day of school jitters at 35 mind you & and a mother of 6. What the what?!? Why do I care!?!
I care because I’m uncomfortable. I hate the roundness. The jiggly inner thighs. The lack of booty curvature that I once possessed. I miss my old body. The one I sculpted right after the twins. Le sigh.
So my plan is to work up to a class I attend solo. My plan is to murder this fat and find my peace in this skin I’m in. I guess I’ll take my motto from Bill Murray’s character, Bob in What About Bob?
Baby step to the gym. Baby step to Zumba. Baby step through cardio.
I can do this. I can do this. I will do this. I must do this.
What’s my motivation? Freedom. Fat person jail is not for me. I’ve been framed. 😩😁
I have great things to do and this body is trying to hold me hostage. A healthy freedom is in my future. And judging looks, rude whispers or sabotaging family members will not stop me.
I’m busting out of this plump prison and once I taste the sweet taste of freedom I’m not going back. This time when I step out I’m gonna rock my shades like the Boss that I am, only this time it’ll definitely be for glamour.