The Evil Voice in The Gym
“Well, well,” I thought to myself in a slightly sleazy tone, “Aren’t you looking lovely this evening!” And I was. My features appeared to have resolved several recent disputes and were all quietly getting along. My hair was graciously complementing my form, rather than competing against it for “Most Awkward in Show.” I looked a little like a boy, in a good way. I thought that if I wandered across the bridge, Brooklyn would welcome me with open arms. Which is a good sign, because the young people there are almost always very attractive.
Later on that night, I ended up on an elliptical next to a woman on the staircase machine (is that called a step master, or is the little step people order for their homes called that? Or neither?), in part because the gym is being dramatically renovated and all of the treadmills were covered with white tarps, like they died in their sleep.
The woman on the stair thing was reflected alongside me in an enormous mirror. And her arms made my arms look like they shouldn’t be allowed to be arms. Her arms were toned and slender and tanned and I imagined for second that she never even thought about them. That they’d just always been that way. I wished I hadn’t eaten that bowl of pasta right before coming over here. As though the pasta was making its way to my arms already. It was definitely making my stomach stick out, the way stomachs stick out after you put food in them. She had clearly never eaten pasta in her life.
My brain was doing this thing that it is very good at. It’s a little like sci-fi. It scans the body of the other woman, and then sets our images side by side, so that all of our differences are obvious. My brain is equipped with amazing, futuristic technology. It has one of those transparent giant touch screen white board things that commanders of alien fleets are always standing around. You flick your finger and it’s like, “Calculating…Comparative jaw structure…Dimensions acquired.”
(source)
I hate that stupid futuristic touch screen white board thing. I don’t want to know. I don’t need to know. And its calculations are far from perfect.
Sometimes I win. Sometimes I think automatically, “My neck is better, though.” Or “Overall, I’m prettier.” I think this so quickly, it’s like a twitch. I think I just twitched again, writing that. Because I feel like I shouldn’t have.
Chugging away at the elliptical in the shadow of the lithe-armed woman on the stair machine, I felt sorry for myself. You need to work out a LOT more…whispered the cold voice of body dysmorphia in my head. You need to lose enough weight that it comes off your arms. Which will take a while, because arm fat goes last, according to…this thing your dad said once…(The voice isn’t particularly well-informed. It doesn’t even know very much about exercise or eating healthy.) You will sacrifice your newly plump breasts for the ability to wear sleeveless dresses as boldly as our First Lady does. There’s nothing to be done about the length of your legs, which will never be anything except for stubby, but at least you won’t be as hopeless as you are now.
That voice can find me almost anywhere, but I think it was bred in the gym, where it hangs in the sweaty air, gurgling with evil glee, and oozing down over the deathly thin woman who is always slashing through her routine at a frantic pace, as though she is running over her imaginary fat on the road in front of her. As though her imaginary fat is a thicket she has to claw through. The voice settles on the heavyset woman who is glancing around at all of the very thin women. And the guy with the big, unfashionable glasses. And probably nearly everyone, really.
“I look bad,” Bear tells me, on our way back to the apartment. “I saw myself in the mirror. I look bad.”
He doesn’t. He looks good. Exactly how he looked an hour ago. Just as I look good. Just as the woman with the taut arms also looks good. We can all look good at the same time. Her arms haven’t canceled my arms out. My butt hasn’t defeated her butt. Her prettiness hasn’t rendered my prettiness obsolete. We’re each complete, interesting, unique looking creatures.
The gym is a strange place anyway. Something about running and running and never going anywhere. Or ellipticalling and ellipticalling, as the case may be.
Before I got off my particular elliptical, I looked myself in the eye. I honed in on my image and let stair-woman’s reflection float blurrily off to the side. I made a serious effort to rewrite some programming and compare myself to, well, myself. Which actually worked. (Apparently I’m becoming a better programmer?)
There will always be another stair-woman in the gym. There will always be another woman looking stunning in the subway. There will always always be other women, everywhere, to rank myself against. But this, right here, is the only woman I will ever be. I’ll be me at whatever weight, at whatever shape, with whatever haircut, at whatever age. And I’d like to be good at it.
I closed my eyes and pumped my legs for a while and then felt incredibly tired and went home and ate some more pasta. I love pasta. I also like feeling healthy, and taking care of my heart, and making sure I have energy. But I love pasta, too. And if my arms and belly are more padded as a result, then I’m going to have to love them that way.
The display flickers, trying to start running more comparisons. I slap both hands down on the faintly glowing surface of the sci-fi white board. It sparks and then goes dark.
* * *
Un-roast: Today I love the pasta sauce I invented. And the way my shoulders look with my short hair.
P.S. Bragging: My interview with Kay Hymowitz made the “most popular” lineup on HuffPo! I read it again and thought that I am the worst writer who has ever attempted to string words together on the white, digital page. But it’s still cool.
P.P.S. I couldn’t think of any photos for this post. Huge fail.
Kate on March 22nd 2011 in Uncategorized
june responded on 22 Mar 2011 at 12:27 pm #
Love this post. I know exactly how that feels. I love how you say “her prettiness hasn’t rendered my prettiness obsolete.” I’ll have to keep that in mind next time those negative feelings arise.
I used to go to the gym, but when it got too expensive I started running outside. Somehow, that voice isn’t as loud in the park or along the river, even though there are always plenty of gorgeous people enjoying the outdoors. It just doesn’t matter as much outside. Other joggers will often smile at me, say hello, or race me for a bit. An older man once started running next to me, and without discussion, we raced each other over the course of several miles, up and down hills, until he thanked me for running with him and went his own way. I work from home, which can sometimes feel isolating, but when I interrupt my day to go for a run I come home feeling pumped up and connected to my fellow city-dwellers. Now that the weather is on its way to warm, maybe you’ll be able to leave those mirrors and glances and whiteboards behind!
Kate responded on 22 Mar 2011 at 12:30 pm #
@June
That’s my plan exactly! I love being outside. And I love your jogging stories.
Hannah responded on 22 Mar 2011 at 1:10 pm #
This is such a great post. I’ve pretty much quit the gym because that’s where my competitive evil voice gets really intense. Even though it sounds simple, for me, it’s extremely tough to realize that I cannot be anyone else’s body but my own. And I should realize, like you are, that our own special body is a beautiful thing.
E responded on 22 Mar 2011 at 1:14 pm #
“But this, right here, is the only woman I will ever be. I’ll be me at whatever weight, at whatever shape, with whatever haircut, at whatever age. And I’d like to be good at it.”
Amen. I couldn’t agree more but still needed the reminder. If I spent more time on being my best self and less time on being better than others, I would probably actually be better (and more content).
AlisonM responded on 22 Mar 2011 at 1:54 pm #
“But this, right here, is the only woman I will ever be. I’ll be me at whatever weight, at whatever shape, with whatever haircut, at whatever age. And I’d like to be good at it.”
That for me is one of the best things I’ve read in a while. You’re right. Stop comparing ourselves to other people! That and stop obsessing about the size of random body parts as if they capture — or bulldoze over — the essence of us.
I’m a gym bunny (rat..), and I suffer from the pasta/arms dilemma all the time. I workout, and am in what most people would (and do) describe as good shape. But I eat enough cake and pb bagels (my version of pasta in this story) to mean that I still have a comfortable layer of fat on my arms and my stomach (your dad is right btw). And so whenever I see the woman with abs or visible shoulder muscles, etc etc blah blah, I always feel inadequate. But them I go out afterwards with my friends, or this guy that I’m dating(!), and I have a beer, and some pizza, and I remember that *that’s* who I am — the girl who works out and then has a beer. I’m not just my arms.
Thank you for reminding of this. I forget at least 3 times a day!
Stacey responded on 22 Mar 2011 at 1:57 pm #
That “I’m prettier” twitch. I hate it. We’re told that we aren’t supposed to self-deprecate, but as soon as we think that we look good we’re suddenly the most arrogant person in the world.
Jenna responded on 22 Mar 2011 at 3:02 pm #
“We can all look good at the same time”
Cheers to that! My Goodness woman, you can write!
J.
Jen responded on 22 Mar 2011 at 3:06 pm #
@Hannah: “I’ve pretty much quit the gym because that’s where my competitive evil voice gets really intense.”
Amen.
I teach yoga at the gym, but otherwise leave right after. Yoga has taught me to hear that voice but realize it’s not TRUTH. It’s just another track my mind likes to run in–not good running, either.
The gym is a conundrum: the “healthy” environment that breeds addicts of another kind.
Andrea responded on 22 Mar 2011 at 3:26 pm #
Hi, Kate! My daughter’s Psychology teacher gave her class a handout: “10 Reasons Why You Want to Eat Cake”. I thought I’d share them with you. They’re pretty fun and funny.
10. Super Ego – If I eat cake, I’ll gain weight. And my cholesterol will go up. I won’t eat the cake.
9. Ego – I’ll eat a small piece of cake after dinner.
8. Id – GIVE ME CAKE!!
7. Rogers – How does the cake make you feel?
6. Behaviorist – Ooooh–cake! How delici-OUCH! Why are you shocking me?!
5. Negative Reinforcement – I’ll take the shock away. Just go ahead and enjoy the cake.
4. Cognitive – Cake on fork, fork to mouth. Cake on fork, fork to mouth.
3. Skinner – All I have to do is push this lever and they give me cake?? Stupid humans!
2. Freud – It’s not really cake you want. The cake is merely a subconscious manifestation, possibly the result of a hug-deficit as a child. Do you dream of cake?
1. Pavlov – I wish they’d stop measuring my drool!!
Kate responded on 22 Mar 2011 at 3:36 pm #
@Andrea
Hilarious! Thank you so much for sharing! Id rocks. And #3 cracked me up.
Dana Udall-Weiner responded on 22 Mar 2011 at 3:38 pm #
I love the humor that you inject into otherwise dry and even disappointing situations. Like comparing arms or stomachs or anything else. And I’m glad that you’re becoming a better programmer–maybe you have to teach us how!
Dana Udall-Weiner responded on 22 Mar 2011 at 3:45 pm #
P.S. After feeling all high and mighty that winter had possibly moved on for good (and feeling sorry for you east-coasters), I woke up to a white-covered world this morning. Mostly it’s already melted. But I think mother nature decided my sense of superiority had to go. Sigh. Hopefully we’ll get back to warm days soon.
Laurin responded on 22 Mar 2011 at 5:56 pm #
Hey Kate,
I have to say a big thank you for this post this morning. You made my day.
I hear that voice alot, especially when things aren’t going so well or are a bit difficult.. (like at the moment- I’ve just moved interstate, back home to my Mum’s to save money, but away from all my friends and the city I’ve lived in for 11 years).
And because I’ve recently put on a bit of weight, and work in the city where ‘everyone is glamorous’ (or so the voice would like me to think), it’s been coming out.
“But this, right here, is the only woman I will ever be. I’ll be me at whatever weight, at whatever shape, with whatever haircut, at whatever age. And I’d like to be good at it.”
that quote is something I’m going to carry with me for the next while, if that’s okay. every time I hear the voice, I’m going to remind it of that. because when I’m thinking rationally, that is my goal too.
I’m not sure how much sense I’ve made, but just wanted you to know how much you’ve made my morning (over here in Australia, anyway) and to say thank you very very much.
🙂
Emmi responded on 22 Mar 2011 at 8:30 pm #
Having a chronic illness changes your relationship with your body. It can seem like a prison, make you feel as if you’ve been cursed. You learn to walk softly, as if there’s a bomb in your back pocket that will go off with no rhyme or reason as to when or how.
I pretty much always assume everyone is going to have a nicer body than me. The best part is, that somehow no longer bothers me. I could be a lot worse off than I am, and I have so much love in my life – if I were hideous, I imagine I’d scare more children and dogs, and both love me. Unfortunate, because I’m lousy with children and allergic to dogs. I digress.
Having this attitude doesn’t bring me down. It gives me constant happy surprises. When my hair looks good, or my eyes have a twinkle, my clothes are hanging nicely or my skin seems particularly smooth, I feel quite pleased! It gives me a spring in my step and boosts my confidence. I have learned never to compare myself to other women because it’s like the difference between Esperanto and Sanskrit – both can be written with pen and ink, but the similarities stop there. Each human body is its own work of art, and you can’t compare Picasso and Rodin.
I’ve always had a competitive nature, but body comparison turns into a battle with no winner. I’ve never gone to a gym, I’ve always known that I don’t have the daily commitment to make the fees worth it. And I think I’m glad I don’t have to see the sizing up that goes on there. Any body that functions even close to normally is a great gift, and being healthy enough to exercise without pain or stress falls into that category in my opinion.
But for now, I sit here with my burger and beer, and my husband tells me I’m pretty. He does so, many times every day and has done this for many years. I think it’s because he read something once about how you have to tell the pretty girls they’re smart, and the smart girls they’re pretty. Either way, I’m just glad he likes to look at me. I’ll take his word for it 🙂
Mandy responded on 22 Mar 2011 at 9:33 pm #
One of my weapons against my inner critic is self-knowledge. I realized that in order to be completely buff, I’d have to spend waaay too much time working on it. I’d have to give up time with my husband, with my books, sleeping… And I’d have to give up pizza, buttered toast, and chocolate.
I remind myself that I exercise so that I CAN eat those things, and still be reasonably healthy. That I’m more interested in keeping my blood pressure at or below 120/80, my resting hear rate below 70, and my cholesterol below 200–all of which I have achieved.
And, after I have reminded myself of all of these things, I roll my eyes at my inner critic and say “You have no power here! Begone! before someone drops a house on you!”
Un-roast: Today, I just LOVE myself!
MWN responded on 22 Mar 2011 at 11:04 pm #
A new intern started at the organization I’ve been interning for about two months now. I feel like I don’t like her, but when I think about why, the best I can come up with is that she is very pretty and also very accomplished, and I feel threatened (even though I don’t WANT a full-time job with them.) I’m critiquing all of her experiences (oh, you went to Argentina? But did you REALLY go, or just tour it for two weeks? Or did you just do the usual study abroad thing? Do you even speak Spanish fluently? With a native accent?) and it’s making me really negative and I don’t like it. I need to CALM DOWN and remember that it’s great if she’s impressive and it doesn’t have to detract from me.
Deanna responded on 22 Mar 2011 at 11:18 pm #
I work out a lot but I do it because I am in the fitness business and have to work out and because it helps keep me healthy and helps to relieve my stress. Even though I am thin and wear a small size, I have the same body issues as everyone. I sometimes get so depressed when I see all these gorgeous women with their perfect hair, great skin and lovely features that I just want to put a bag on my head and disappear.
I work with a lot of very beautiful women too…it’s not easy when I realize I’m the only one who doesn’t get men in class I would like to say it doesn’t bother me..but it does.
Being slender is great but at times it’s not enough. You need everything…the hair, the face, the skin. Very frustrating!
Lovely Links: 3/25/11 responded on 25 Mar 2011 at 4:30 pm #
[…] though hitting the gym is good for you, those evil inner voices that compare your body to others can make gym trips […]
Tamar responded on 26 Mar 2011 at 9:09 pm #
It’s called a stairmaster 🙂 I constantly compare myself to every woman I see, and make ratings, while hating myself for it. But then, I see woman that are so confident wearing so little, and I can see objectively that they are less thin than I am or whatever, but I get the impression they are not comparing themselves to anyone. How do some women have so much confidence? It’s very convincing, because they definitely come across as being the most attractive.
Tamara responded on 28 Mar 2011 at 1:52 pm #
@kate
Thank you…thank you. I love your writing.
@emmi
Thank you too. Chronic pain falls into this catagory. And your last paragraph was so lovely it made me cry.
Hannah responded on 07 Apr 2011 at 7:45 pm #
“But this, right here, is the only woman I will ever be. I’ll be me at whatever weight, at whatever shape, with whatever haircut, at whatever age. And I’d like to be good at it.”
Again, thank you for writing such a beautiful post.
If it’s all right with you, Kate, I’d like to put that line up on my wall to remind me to be a little bit more loving to myself.
Your post gave me the freedom to make a small cup of instant mashed potatoes for dinner. I already ate dinner, but it was super unsatisdying college-dining-hall food, and what I really wanted was some mashed potatoes.
So I made some. I’m not going to get that much fatter for feeling satisfied with the final taste of food in my mouth, and I’m going to try to learn to love myself regardless of what I look like.
Thomas responded on 20 May 2011 at 5:14 am #
it’s beautiful: but – where is the recipe for your pasta sauce exactly? I can’t find it anywhere.