i jiggle therefore i am…

how come there are skinny little stick figures @ the gym?  are they there because they too were once a chubster like me & they have to work diligently to keep their ultra-slim figure?  or are they there to irritate the crap out of me by making me wonder (in the midst of my pathetic 3 mile an hour crawl) what “fat” they could possibly be burning while they smoke me with their mountain-esque inclined super-run.  if there is so obviously zero fat on their super-lean figure what do they exactly stand to lose?

maybe they’re just props to motivate the squishy such as myself, like the superstars on magazine racks that the world tries to emulate.  or maybe they’re strategically placed to infuriate the gushy folk to  make that extra effort/extra lap/extra crunch/extra bead of sweat just to prove that they have nothing over them.

here i am sweating up a storm, barely breaking a steady jogging pace – trying hard to keep the jiggles from jiggling too much, while they saunter by in their matching pink or purple exercise gear – taunting me with their hard bodies,  as if to say – “i just am because i am, no sweat!”.

the decision to renew my gym membership did not come easy.  i had to break out the calculator, the paystubs, the daily schedules, give myself multiple pep talks & find myself one outfit that not only fit the budget but concealed the bulge.  it’s a lot of fuss i tell you.  and i hate making a fuss… but as all important things are,  it’s necessary.  did the stick figures have to go thru that same rigamaroll and if so… why do they subject themselves when they are already so beautifully perfect?

so i tell myself, as i progressively get weak in the knees that there could only be one explanation… the stick figures have a screw loose.  that has to be it.  because no one in their right mind would want to be there day in & day out if they didn’t have to, right?  i know I for one, would have better things to do if i were beautifully perfect.

i look @ old photographs of my skinnier self, distinctly remembering how i thought i was a big fat cow back then too.  now a good 20 lbs heavier, i wonder if I had a screw loose.  i wonder if the stick figure knows that she’s perfect.  it would be a sad thing if one day, all the jiggles disappear & the squishy is no longer gushy & i would still find no satisfaction in what i see in the mirror.  is it just a never-ending cycle?  will the stick-figure ME realize that i may have been beautifully perfect all along?

a part of me wants to walk up to the stick figures & tell them how beautiful they are.  even if just to stop the madness.  maybe that way they’ll realize their being there is unnecessary.  then they won’t be hogging up all the equipment or continually making me feel inadequate when their stick legs float across the treadmill as my thick legs drop with a thud.  maybe if i tell them, one day when the stick figure is me, someone else will have the forthright to tell me what a fool i’ve been all along.

...and then, he laughs @ me! 😛

maybe, just maybe, i’m someone else’s stick figure with a screw loose; even as i speak.  all of a sudden there’s a spring in my step & my legs soar lighter than a feather.  and i realize.  it’s not the jiggles, the gush or the squish that packs the gym – it’s the inner stick figure that shines thru the mirror when u stop trying to be, but accepting that you ARE…

… beautifully perfect.