The mood wasn't helped by the fact that her yearly membership was almost up and she couldn't see a single positive result from all that time at the gym. Ok, she only managed to go 2 or 3 times a week spending 45mins there doing the program her trainer had set out for her. She couldn't go at all over the school holidays so there were chunks of the year where she'd been inactive. Still, she thought she'd see some improvement by now. Some incentive to keep going. Instead she wanted to go home and drown her sorrows in a sweet bar of chocolate. Not that she ate chocolate much, it was just the principle of the thing.
After the tricep curls she moved to the push up machine that allowed her to sit while pushing weights that worked her chest. There was a man on the machine to her right, another on a machine opposite her, a couple of ladies working with personal trainers who were looking at her. The urge to crawl into a hole to not be seen was massive. Closing her eyes while she complete her work out, thoughts of her life came flooding in. She had a nice husband, nice kids, a nice home and car, money. Life was good. So why didn't she like herself? Why wasn't she content with her lot?
She was aware she wasn't the most hideous thing in the world and she didn't judge unattractive people harshly. No. Judgement was saved solely for herself. How did she end up this way? For as long as she could remember her mum had called her vain anytime she expressed an interest (negative or positive) in her appearance. In primary and high school she was aware that the more popular girls were not always more pretty than her and could never understand why boys didn't like her in that way. Until after high school when she realised the popular girls put out and she wasn't the putting out type. There were moments when she looked in the mirror and thought 'I'm not too bad, why don't boys like me'. While other times, such as now at the gym, she couldn't fathom having left the house to be seen looking this bad.
It's true, there were moments lately where she had feelings of hating herself (her looks and body) so much so she wanted to die. Best die now while things aren't as bad as they're going to get and the coroner is faced with a half attractive body instead of a baggy fat ugly body. Which took her back to the time she was a cashier and a woman around 50 or 60 came to the counter and was telling the young girl how your body loses elastin as you age. Giving a demo on her hands, the lady pinched her hands and showed how long it look for the skin to fall back down again. Shock! Horror! Something like that scares the life out of you when you're young.
Leaving the gym before the session was complete, she decided a cool shower and a good dose of moisturiser was what she needed. After her shower she looked at her self and thought, at least I have nice breasts. Gotta have something about yourself you like. The shower, the moisturiser, washing her hair, left her feeling more human. And yet, as always, she wondered 'when will I like myself?' Or better yet when will I realise looks don't matter and there's more to life and happiness, than how a person looks?
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