Morror Revelations

Dressing room mirrors are unforgiven, the angles are uncomfortably wide, and with the harsh naked lighting magnification of body parts can be hauntingly revealing. It's not even bathing suit shopping time and I have found myself in tears in a department store dressing room. Though confident and comfortable in my skin, clothes shopping has become my nemesis. My muscular body has become hard to fit. The absence of running has emphasized the strength of my physique. With a short waist and a voluptuous bottom jeans, shorts, and skirts have become impossible to fit. Shoulders broad, waist wide I find myself lost amidst the styles that I wish I could wear and clothes that only dramatically emphasize the strength of my muscles. No size is consistent within trends and particular cuts. Frustrating to say the least, tear jerking to be completely honest.

This has been a difficult month for my personal self-confidence. Befuddled I am, for my career has fantastically become sucessful, I am in a healthy relationship, my classes are packed, and opportunities have been presenting themselves with ease and comfort. However, with a busy schedule and a new relationship it seems that priorities have shifted, and time for cardio (other than my runs) has now become a burden listed on a to do list.

Today, in the dressing room, clearly reflected upon in the mirror, I could see the changes in my body. I normally don't look at the back of myself, and now I do understand the reasoning behind this. Deposits of fat can show up in the most sneaky of places. Was that there before? How did that get there? Has avoiding the mirror, especially the rear view, left me in the dark on how my bottom really looks?

This is a minor problem, I am aware of this. I am a strong woman. I love my arms. My legs are built to endure struggle and miles of road and dirt and unexpected obstacles. My mid-section, a sculpted 4-pack, stabilizes my center and strategically balances my back. I am muscular. I am a trainer and an instructor. This is inevitable. However, though maybe ridiculous in the entire scheme of things, unforgiven mirrors and the unflattering fit of trendy clothing has left me in doubt of my self and my fit muscularity. Why? Though fit and muscular and in the best shape of my life, I do hold fat, and now, for some insecure, vulnerable reason I now see where it is held with a naked, skeptic eye.

Why can't a size 6 be a six? Why is there such a thing as skinny fit? Why am I resistant in leaving the junior department, though in my thirties? Why have I let a particular perception of how a body "should" look permeate and deteriorate all rational thought? Why am I in tears over buying clothes?

These are my growing pains. This is my most insecure moment of the month. This is my pain and frustration. This is why I am a trainer.

Just because I can do 30 push ups in a row, squat 90lbs, run 3 miles under 24 minutes, and train 40+ hours a week, does not mean that I do not have fat moments, or those horrible revealing understandings of where my 20% body fat resides. (I do wish it could hide itself.) I have cellulite!!!! And this completely bothers me. It truly bothers me. It was the actual reason why I cried standing there in the dressing room. How did it get there?

I am a woman and this is natural. I am 150lbs and I am only 20% body fat. I am fit. I am muscular. However, I have become more self-conscious in the past few months since my first love, road-running, left me for someone else who had healthier legs.

Bodies change. It is my business. This is not an irrevocable moment of bad health or unforgiven fat cells. It's a sudden revelation of how I have neglected my self a bit. Not entirely, almost in necessity, for work and my new love have needed focus and tender loving care. However, with out care for myself and unconditional confidence, all good things will come to an end.

I am being hard on myself. I will admit I am probably being the typical female, holding herself to irrational high standards, expecting to be perfect, expecting to to not have any fat or cellulite.

I left the store, honestly, a bit broken and down on myself, and in self-loathing. This is not a normal characteristic of my personality. I do not understand fully the potency of the moment and why a little bit of cellulite on the back of my thighs made me cry in the dressing room. But it did. And that's the simple truth.

As I drove home I played every upbeat song that I could find in my collection of pump music. I took deep breaths. I spent time in that particular moment. I wanted to feel every bit of that emotion. I wanted it to fill me, rather than deplete me. I wanted that horrible moment of self-doubt and actual hate for my thighs to only motivate me more for my clients, my work, and my self. I wanted to fully take in that feeling so I would avoid revisiting it again.

For what is life without enjoying good food and lazy days? And why do I do what I do if I cannot have a sweet treat or a day of absolute laziness?

The only standard to be held is of good health, not absolute perfection.

I think next time I will have them dim the lights...............