I’ve mentioned several times in previous posts that I’ve had a gym membership for quite a while now and I’ve yet to go. And generally when I do this I joke about it but today I decided to take a hard look at what’s going on and it’s not pretty. To sum it up, I’m afraid. I have a paralysing fear of being in new situations where I’m not in control, situations where I’m not an expert. I’m afraid to go to the gym. I can stand in front of a group of several hundred and deliver a presentation for work, but I can’t walk in to a gym, or more specifically a gym locker room without feeling woozy and knowing I’m going to make a butt of myself.
Let me give you an idea of the crazy:
I’m not sure what one wears to the gym these days. And it’s not so much about being fashionable, I don’t actually know if I have anything I could wear as I don’t currently own yoga pants or warm-up pants or athletic pants of any kind that would fit me. And I’m fairly sure my gym shorts from high school would not be acceptable (do you remember what gym shorts in the mid-eighties looked like? EESH)
I stress about my shoes. Does one wear shoes to the gym? (Turns out the answer is yes, which is good, because sweaty bare feet all over the place is sort of ew) What sort of shoes would one wear? I have running shoes, but I have a weird running pattern so they hurt my feet if I use them to walk. I have the walking shoes I use to walk the dog, but dude, I wear those every day through rain and sleet and snow. Do you have any idea what they smell like? Although, knocking everyone else out might make me feel more comfortable as I shamble around wreaking havoc.
What about a bra? The girls have changed from the last time I was physically active. I’ve tried to get my old sports bras on and it’s not pretty; I was fairly sure they were going to need the jaws of life to get me out of one of them. And my regular bras are not up to the challenge. I mean, they’re barely hanging on by a thread at the best of times and underwire just does not go with any sort of bouncing. And no, braless is NOT an option.
Then there’s the sweating. The sweating, thank you pregnancy. I mean on the glow-to-perspire-to-sweat scale I was probably leaning towards perspire anyways before getting pregnant and I’m not sure what magical powers gestating gets to hold over your body for the rest of your life, but really, can we trade side effects? The sweating is ridiculous. Boobs, pits, back, neck, feet, head, some sort of weird cheek thing, and yes I’ll admit it crotch sweat too. How much can one sweat before you just dry up and float away? (hah, like there’s a chance of that!)
What about the equipment? How will I use the equipment? You know I’ll be the one with her hair caught in the elliptical machine. Hear those free weights clanging? Sorry ’bout that. And yes, I’ll fall off the step too (do they still do step aerobics these days?).
Tell me I’m not alone. I mean, I ‘know’ no one gives a hoot what I wear, or if I missed shaving my left knee (seriously how does that happen?), I’ve just got to figure out a way to ignore those nagging fears, strap on some spandex and take my inspiration from Mooshinindy and get to the gym. (Because if that’s not motivation I don’t know what is! *g*)
Were you paralysed by fear? How did you get yourself through the doors? Did you buy a whole new wardrobe before you set foot in the locker room? And will those voices ever SHUT UP?
Coreen is a geriatric mother living with her husband (hubby) and 3.5 year old daughter (V). She works in IT Security but doesn’t yet know what she wants to be when she grows up. She also blogs at One Day this Blog will have a Snazzy Name (and is open to naming suggestions because really.)