#30

#30 Accept the fact I will never join a gym and find a fitness program that works for me.

I often tell people I'm allergic to the gym, and I'm not lying when I say it. I have real, legitimate, visceral reactions when I am in, near, or around a gym. I start to sweat, itch and shake. I get a pit in my stomach. Every fiber in my being is screaming, "GET AWAY GET AWAY." Sometimes, I break out in a rash.

I've been told, by people with "medical degrees" and "knowledge", that this is less of an "allergic reaction" to the gym itself, but probably a "reaction to the anxiety I associate with the gym". Pffft. Whatever, doctors. I'm allergic to those bitches, and that's all there is to it.

Regardless of whether trained, medical professionals are correct or I am, one thing is undeniable: I really hate the mother effing gym.

As I have admitted in previous posts, I am not one of those stick thin girls. I'm not one of those in shape girls. Hell, I'm not even one of those average girls (all though, on a good day, I can pass for it). I am, as my noni so fondly calls it, a "big" girl. Slightly overweight. Big boned. I will never be thin. At my absolute smallest, I squeezed into a size 8, but if I'm being entirely honest, I was more comfortable in a 10. I am currently in a size 12. Sometimes, I wear a size 14.

And this, gentle readers, is why I hate the gym.

When you are a un-fit size 12/14, things don't always look good in motion. I believe Bridget Jones said it best: You know, wobbly bits. I have them. And, they, well, wobble when I try to do active things. Like, say, run. Or bike. Or whatever. I have no control over the direction certain body parts lumber off in. Things bounce without permission. Objects may make sudden, unexpected, uncontrollable movements. What I am saying is, I cannot control "the motion in the ocean" (Isn't that a pleasant image? I apologize). And there's nothing I can about it short of lubing myself up and shoving my whole body into a spandex suit, and you know, I'm not even sure that would do anything for my appropriately named thunder thighs.

So, when I run on the treadmill next to those stick thin, really fit guys and gals, I am super aware of what my own body looks like.

In addition to the body image dimorphism, I often feel like going to the gym is a competition against those around me. I see Pretty Blond Girl running, and I feel like I have to run as long as she does. If you haven't figured it out yet, I hate running and am not in shape, so this is delusional at best and down-right crazy at worst. I can never run as long as someone else at the gym.

Unless I find someone in worst shape than I am to compare myself to, I will always feel inadequate at the gym. And that's unlikely. How many overweight people do you see at the gym? Exactly. Few, if any. They avoid it for the same reasons I avoid it. Look it up. It's called gym intimidation. Seriously, you can Google it.

Anyway, long story short, the gym and I are not friends, and we never will be.

With that said, I want to look stunning on my wedding day, and I would love to put forth the effort to lose some weight. Just not at the gym. Enter my father (this is a good story, I promise). My dad walks every morning. Walking is something I can do. It's actually better on your joints than running, and brisk walking burns about the same calories per minute as running does .

So, every morning at about 6:30, I've been walking a few miles with my dad and other people from the neighborhood. It's actually, dare I say it, fun, because there's good company for gossiping, and I don't feel like anyone is judging me. I actually feel superior than people. I feel like I am exuding a very "Look at me! I'm up and at 'em and sweatin' and burnin' some fat! You all wish you were as awesome as me!" attitude. It's very liberating.

Anyhoo, so I'm walking. And I've added crunches to the routine, too. And soon, I'll start P90 with John. Between all of this, here's to hoping I'll see some results.

Fears

When I was little, I had to be put to bed with the light on. As in, whoever was tucking me (E.G. Mom) that night left my bedroom light on, and then either my mom or dad, or if they could be persuaded, one of my brothers, turned the light off after I had fallen asleep. I also had three nightlights in my room, and a window that faced the street and a streetlamp. Clearly, for those who like to sleep in the complete dark, my childhood room was not for you.

In addition to this, I would ONLY be tucked in by my mother, because only she knew how to do it "right". My mom would spray what she called "sweet dream spray", which was really perfume she used to wear (I can't remember if she bought an extra bottle, or just used one she didn't care for), all around my room. She would then sing me a song. It was the same song, actually, every night. I don't know the name, it was a lullaby of some sort. However, when I Googled the lyrics, it was included in a fan fiction about Alvin & the Chipmunks. Random.

Anyhoo, all of this was done because I had two things: An extreme fear of the dark (could you tell?) and an over reactive imagination. I used to honestly believe all of the following: An evil wizard lived under my bed, mean gorillas had a habitat in my closet, and a vampire perched in the tree outside my window. Naturally, these things only manifested themselves at night. Some kids have imaginary friends, I was so prone to fear, I had imaginary villains in my room.

This is somewhat embarrassing, but I slept with a nightlight well into high school. The only reason I stopped was because, well, it was high school, I had friends sleeping over, and it was just plain humiliating to sleep with a night light when you were old enough to drive a car. But my fear of the dark has never gone away.

To this day, the number one thing I'm scared of is the dark. Everything is scary in the dark. When I'm getting ready to go to bed, I have to turn off lights in reverse order, meaning, I work my way from one side to the other, so that a light is ALWAYS on somewhere in the house. In the house I'm in currently, once all the lights are off downstairs, I practically sprint upstairs. Where the lights are on. If I have to get up to go the bathroom in the middle of the night, all lights go on again.

This is pathetic. I know.

What does this have to do with the list? A lot. #4 on the list is "conquer my fears." The dark being the biggest.

This weekend, I made an attempt to conquer my fear of the dark.

I failed.

I was home alone this weekend, and my already strong fears intensify when I'm by myself. I feel extremely vulnerable, weak, and for some reason, more obvious to others. Like everyone passing by knows I'm alone and scared. What a perfect time, then, I thought, to try to spend some time alone. In the dark. As in by myself.

I tried, I really did, but irrational fear won every time I tried. I would stand next to the light switch, and all I could do was think about all the things that might happen if I were to just hang around in the dark. "A serial killer could get me!" As highly unlikely as this is, it's the thing I'm most afraid of "getting me" in the dark. "Someone could break in!" Also unlikely, since the house has an alarm system. "There could be monsters in the closet!" Okay, I don't really think that one, but I just needed to throw it out there to show you how ludicrous these thoughts are. As a result of freaking myself even more, I hardly slept all weekend.

I'm thinking I need to start with a different fear, one that is less...established. Like maybe snakes. Or clowns.

What are some of your irrational fears? What do you do to calm them?