I Realized That I Am The Ugliest Person At The Gym

Last week I had one day in particular that was a little bit crazier than my normal crazy days. It started off as a fairly routine day. I had a meeting scheduled with a domestic abuse shelter, then I was supposed to head over to Mr. Attorney Man’s office for a quick conversation, and then I needed to get a few other things done before I picked up the kids from daycare.

I started out the day feeling pretty chipper, as I usually do, but then I pulled out of my driveway and noticed something; piles of moving boxes sitting at the curb.

WHAT THE FUCK.

I called my friend and was all “OMGOSH guess what I just saw!? The two nutcases have been hoarding boxes in their garage for weeks and now they are all at the curb!! THEY HAD BETTER STILL BE FREAKING MOVING.” I was so disturbed by this sight that I actually backed back into my driveway and then ran around to the front yard hoping that I was still going to be able to see my most favorite sight in the world. Nope, the for sale sign was gone.

DAMMIT.

I got back into my car and continued driving to the shelter, albeit a bit grouchier than I was before, when my phone started chiming with text message alerts.

It was my mother.

When it rains it pours, am I right?

She was finally getting back to me in regards to the “can we meet and talk” text that I had sent her several weeks ago. Her text read “we have nothing to talk about,” which is funny, because she has been texting, calling, and emailing me for months on end, near begging me to hear her out, and now suddenly, we have nothing to talk about?

I texted back, saying “with the nonprofit going public soon, I think it would be a good idea for us to get on the same page with what I’m planning to talk about. I don’t want to anger the family, so let’s discuss how I can best go about this in a way that you are comfortable with.”

Honestly, I really don’t care how comfortable she is, but I'm trying to make the best out of a bad situation and I really didn’t want to be bitchy to the point where she exploded before we even met.

Apparently none of that mattered though, because it happened anyways. You guys, she absolutely beyond description exploded. I mean I literally have no words for what took place next. Texts upon texts just ripping apart every human attribute that I have, everything from just being alive to the way I parent. Texts saying that it was my fault my ex left and it was my fault that she treated me the way she did. Texts saying that I just needed to get over what happened in my childhood and that I’m a sick and twisted person for not letting the past die. Texts saying I wouldn’t need a nonprofit if I hadn’t chased my ex away and that if I had been a better child, maybe I would have had a family that loved me. Texts saying that if I chose to move forward with the nonprofit, that they would personally expose every insecurity that I had to the world. By the time I got to the shelter I was wiping running make-up off my face and trying to dab away new tears before they even fell.

I didn't really have time to dwell on it though, I needed to get to into the meeting so I did my best to put on my big girl face and I think overall the meeting went pretty well.

As I left the shelter and started driving to Mr. Attorney Man’s office, texts from my brother started pouring in. “Fuck You” was sent over and over and when I didn't respond they started coming faster. I actually had to pull over on the way to his office and sit in a Target parking lot just to shake off the knot that was starting to form in my stomach. I gave myself a little pep talk in the sun visor mirror and vowed not to shed another tear because of such evil people. By evening they had ceased fire, which was a good thing because later that afternoon was when XOJane published my article and OHMYGOSH the comments. Yikes people, the comments.

If you haven't read it, the article was about how I much I hate mother's day. People went ballistic. Many people boldly exclaimed that I was a horrible mother and that my kids would be better off with their father. Commentors brazenly talked about how my kids were going to be absolutely destroyed by my obvious lack of parenting skills and that I was selfish and stupid to have kids in the first place. People deemed me unworthy and unfit to have ever had children and chastised the judge for awarding me custody. I watched them on the comment thread, being egged on by the other readers and feeling even more justified by their audacious assumptions, all banding together until I could practically hear them shouting "burn the witch!"

They don't know my story, they don't know my history, and yet, a lot of them whittled down all that I am as a parent and a human being to just one article.

That night I climbed into bed, a weariness taking over my soul as I drifted off into a fit full and unfufilling sleep, and the next day I awoke to someone’s birthday.

I won’t name any names, but she writes this blog and her name rhymes with….well….actually…nothing. I’m not sure her name rhymes with anything now that I’m thinking about it…. anyways, that’s beside the point.

(Come on now, I know at this point you are all trying to rhyme my name. If you come up with anything, post it in the comments!)

So anyway's, the next day, on my birthday I found myself standing in front of the mirror at the gym and sort of just looking myself up and down. “Ok kiddo, you’re 31 today. How does that feel? How do you feel? How are you doing in life?”

I looked at myself and then in the mirror’s reflection I looked at the people around me, and I realized something.

I was by far the ugliest person at the gym.

Seriously, I’m not even kidding. Like maybe not face wise, but presentation wise, yes, definitely the ugliest. Now first off, why did I not get the memo that there is apparently a now standard gym outfit for females of my age range to wear? Black spandex calf length pants, spandex racer back top in neon color, and neon pink shoes. Now to top it off, every woman had their hair nicely arranged into a cute little bun with a stretchy headband, Iphone tucked into their arm band, and damn did they all look good. I looked back at myself and pondered my reflection. Too long spandex pants that even in an XS look ridiculous on me and a shirt that I grabbed from my “gym” pile of clothing, which consists entirely of shirts that I have ruined while cleaning houses. Hair? A style that I had raked into a creation that took me two rubber bands to contain, curls popping out where ever they pleased, and my android phone precariously tucked into my waistband. As I looked around I was hit with the realization that, yes, yes, I was absolutely the ugliest person in the gym. (At least I nailed the hot pink shoes)

I suddenly felt the need to explain to the people around me, the good looking people, that this wasn’t the “real me.” That I’m usually more polished than this, that I can present myself better than this. That despite what they may see on the outside, that there was more to me than the disheveled mess that was standing before them. I wanted to tell them that I had just dropped the kids off at daycare and I was rushing to the gym so that I could squeeze in my workout before rushing home to shower and make myself the polished person that I aim to be, the person that I wish to portray to the world, before going off to work, but really, even to me, that that seemed a tad bit crazy.

I quickly did another set with the weights so that no one would realize I was having an entire life moment in my head and then I just stood there for a minute, looking at my reflection and letting the events of the past few days sink in. The nutcase neighbors, my family, XOJane, turning 31, and everything else that had been on my mind. With that, two thoughts crossed my mind;

I cannot control how others view me and I’m not here for show.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not ragging on the gym girls that I envy so much, showing up looking all perfect, sporting a workout look that is probably more pulled together than most of my dating attire, no, I just realized that I’m not them. I can’t present myself as if I have my entire life together, because I don’t, but I show up and I put in the work. It doesn’t always look as pretty and polished as the way everyone else does it, but it’s getting done. I can’t control the way that other’s view me in the process and as much as I’d like for them to have all the information relevant to the situation, that is unrealistic. I cannot control how other’s view me and if I was to wait until I could present myself as the perfect person that I want them to see me as, I’d never get to the gym.

I can’t change the way the world views me.  I cannot control what the nutcase neighbors think of me, I can’t control what my parents are going to say about me to others, and I can’t do anything about the fact that a bunch of XOJane readers read one article, out of the hundred that I have written, and decided that I was the scum of the earth. I have no say in the situation and I need to be ok with that. I need to be ok knowing that I’m living my truth. That I’m living the most authentic version of myself and if others choose to judge me based solely on what they see in a single moment of my life, I need to be ok with that.

This is who I am. I am not perfect. I don’t always have it all together and my life does not always flow along smoothly, but I show up and I put in the work for an end result that I desire. I present myself as the true and honest person that I am and if that’s not good enough for people, then so be it. I refuse to hide behind a façade of perfection that simply does not exist in my world.

People email me all the time asking what they should do when someone denies what happened to them. When someone judges them based on the lies of another, or when they want to come forward and talk about something that happened but fear no one will believe them. I tell them all the same thing; Speak your truth and even if no one is able to accept it, you have stayed true to yourself and that is the most important thing. Live your truth, stand by it, and don’t be discouraged if the world is not ready for what they hear, because moving forward is not about anyone but you. You do not have to stay stuck because the world is not ready to hear what you have to say.

So my family hates me, the nutcases aren't leaving, half of XOJane thinks my children have already been permanently damaged, and you know what? I think I’m ok with that. I know my truth and I refuse to hide behind a false veil of perfection anymore, always skirting my truth to avoid disruption.

I’m going to show up and put in the work no matter how it makes me look in the process, because this nonprofit, my writing, my trips to the gym, my life, it isn’t about perfection. It isn’t about how it makes me look. It’s about the end result that I desire. If the world chooses to judge me based on the opinions of others and a very narrow glimpse of my life, then so be it.

Good bye year 30, hello year 31, it’s really nice after all these years to be able to ring in a year with my true authentic self. A year where for the first time, I’m not letting anyone, or anything, tell me who I am.

Ugly gym look and all, I’m here.

I’m here for the nonprofit no matter what my family rains down upon me. I’m here, in the neighborhood, no matter how many neighbors the nutcases try to turn against me. I’m writing out loud and I refuse to be silenced because people don't like what I'm saying. If at the end of the day my family slanders me, the nutcases gossip about me, and all of Internet land condemns me to death, then so be it.

This is my truth, this is me. Functional enough to keep moving forward yet dysfunctional enough to guarantee imperfection, but it’s me. I will never be as perfect as I would like to be. It is unlikely that I will ever find myself in what I would consider the "perfect moment" to stand up and speak out. If I wait my entire life for the perfect moment when I can speak my truth and nothing bad may come of it, I will likely forever remain silenced.

Do not let your truth be silenced by hiding behind a façade of deceptive perfection. You do not need to be perfect to be important. Being believed is not a requirement of being honest. You do not need approval to be authentic. Do not back down because the world wants to silence you, rise up and break free, because only then will you learn your destiny. The world needs more people to step outside of the box. 

If you allow them to close you in, you will surely suffocate. 

Shake off the doubters, walk away from the hecklers, ignore the ones who want to pull you down. Make peace with the fact that people will judge you without all of the relevant information. There is no such thing as a perfect life. The only shame that is yours to bear, is a life left unlived and a purpose left undiscovered. Show up, even when you feel ugly, and put in the work to get the end result you desire. You are not guaranteed a perfect moment, the only thing you have is right now.

What are you waiting for?

Photo Credits

Casket

Burning

Explosion

Flower