Is My Ass Really Fat?

Just Because I'm Sweating Like a Pig Doesn't Mean I'm Out of Shape!

As I looked into the giant wall of mirrors in my aerobics class, I couldn't help but notice that I was a bit doughy. I usually only concentrate on checking my form, but I was standing (hopping? skipping?) between two very thin, tall older ladies and I couldn't help notice that I was much shorter, much chunkier and much sweatier than they were.

The aerobics classes are a last-ditch attempt to shed my protective layer of fat and the excess 20lbs. They're also a fun way of showing the world that I have two left feet. I like cardio tae boxing. I like pretending to hit my arch-enemies. It's very therapeutic. I also like feeling my muscle actually do something more than lift a barbell. It's a very vain feeling. Everything, except my sorry excuse for an aerobics outfit, is about vanity. My aerobics instructor, Tori, is a young blonde with tonnes of energy and a variety of different, flattering outfits. She's also really sweet and down-to-earth. She recently moved and started working out at another gym (let's call it Globo Gym, after the fancy gym full of beautiful people in the movie "Dodgeball"). She'll keep teaching at my gym (let's call it Average Joe's, after the other gym in "Dodgeball") for now, but she's going to move on to Globo Gym soon. To get us to go to Globo Gym (where the membership fees are double what they are at Average Joe's), she's offered us a few free day passes. "You need to see this gym," she enthused. "There are sofas in the bathrooms and each treadmill has its own personal TV. There's a sauna and a jacuzzi. The only problem is that they don't have a dress code so there are all these fifty year old women with fake boobs and fake tans running around in tube tops." TUBE TOPS? That's great. I can barely deal with the few skinny girls who wander in with their cute outfits and look at me as if I'm the abominable fatwoman; I don't think my ego could survive being compared to under-dressed, uber-fit fifty-year-olds. What's worse is that Globo Gym offers a free fitness evaluation for new members. Tori was evaluated at 19% body fat, which is apparently too high for a 23-year-old like her. To her credit, Tori realized it was all a gimmick to get people to buy the personal training service.

If Tori is "fat" according to the folks at Globo Gym, then I'm a giant lardass. I was thinking about this when I walked into the aerobics class and ended up between TwiggyDee and TwiggyDum. Not only were both of them taller and slimmer than me, but while I was sweating like a pig and taking water breaks every few minutes, they were barely getting damp. I could see them looking at me with derision and it really pissed me off. What's worse is that I know that just because I sweat and take breaks doesn't mean I'm less fit than them.

I always used to wonder why I was one of the few people in the aerobics class to break a sweat. I used to go up to Dana, my fitness buddy, and say, "I am totally out of shape. I don't know what's wrong with me." And she'd say, "you need to go to the gym more. You'll get better after you get fitter." But even after a year and a half, most people don't sweat as much as I do. I was sure I was really, really unwell. Then one day I was actually unwell in class. I became nauseous and had to sit it out. I took the opportunity to stare at everyone else. What I saw surprised me: a lot of people weren't putting in any effort whatsoever! They weren't engaging their core, weren't punching as if their fist was on a spring and they sure as hell weren't full of energy. No wonder they weren't sweating! I wouldn't sweat either if I just moved my arms and legs like I was a Raggedy Ann doll! Geesh! I felt a bit better about my sweat after that. I felt proud to be a sweaty pig because that meant that I was working hard.

But that was before Tori's Globo Gym stories came along and ruined my confidence. I stood in the class, looking at my doughy midsection ripple after every kick and wondered what the hell I could do more to get rid of the gross layer of fat. And I decided...nothing. I don't know what to do. I can go crazy and try to lose weight and get on a fad diet or something, or I can keep eating what I'm eating. I'm healthy. I'm fit. I really shouldn't let the way others see me affect the way I see myself.

And while I'm at it, I want a pony.

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