As we pulled into the gym’s parking lot, I spotted her and let out an exasperated sigh, rolling my eyes. “There she is again,” I said to my partner, “this is why I dread coming here—having to see people like that.”
She was far from overweight; in fact, she looked flawless. We all know the type—the perky woman at the gym working out in a barely-there outfit, flaunting her physique, soaking up the attention like it’s her second job.
Why does her beauty irk me so much? Why does the admiration she receives bother me? I certainly don’t want that kind of attention; I don’t even feel comfortable with my own reflection.
It’s a strange thought, but sometimes I catch myself wishing she’d trip on the gym mat, just enough to embarrass her, not harm. Nothing too serious, just a little clumsy moment that would make others chuckle.
I can’t help but wonder—has she ever struggled with her weight? My guess is she’s one of those who “bounced right back” after having children.
So, what’s behind my eye-rolling? She probably isn’t a villain. Unless, of course, you count her as the destroyer of my self-esteem.
I don’t really know any of the other women at this gym. Some resemble me, but many look like her. Perhaps she serves as a harsh reminder of what I see as my own shortcomings.
She might symbolize the discipline and self-control that seem elusive to me when it comes to healthy eating and fitness. Her midriff is a painful reminder of my own post-baby body—one that has yet to regain its former shape after carrying two hefty children.
Maybe it’s the fact that I can’t use my kids as an excuse anymore; they are old enough to manage simple tasks like making their own sandwiches. And, oh, her perfectly styled hair only highlights the reality that I’m on day three of my hair looking like a dry shampoo experiment gone wrong.
It’s easy to envy her lack of scars or imperfections. She appears to have never felt the need to hide her body. No kids clinging to her legs as she attempts to navigate through life.
But is it fair to assume that just because someone looks great on the outside, they’re happy on the inside? Maybe she battles her own insecurities. Perhaps she stares into the mirror and only sees flaws, just like I do.
I can just picture her with a perfectly polished self-esteem, going to therapy sessions that she can easily afford due to her impressive corporate job, jet-setting around the globe. Perhaps she’s even involved with someone who’s not available, adding to her list of complications.
As I stepped off the cardio machine and left the parking lot, I pondered a few final thoughts. Maybe judging her for being fit is just as detrimental as fat-shaming. And perhaps, the person I’m really frustrated with isn’t her at all—it’s me.
For more on the journey of self-acceptance and understanding, check out this insightful post on our other blog.
In summary, it’s easy to project our insecurities onto others, especially when they seem to embody everything we wish we could be. But the truth is, we are all on our own unique paths, and sometimes the harshest critic we face is ourselves.