Further Tales From the Gym

Last night I jumped in on a strength training class at the gym, along with a lot of women who are becoming familiar faces. One in particular stood out to me last night, and here’s why.

She appears to be the sweet, African American grandmother everyone loves. She rocks it in Zumba, and did a nice job in strength training. Especially when we did walking pushups using the big bouncy balls.

Basically what you do is roll until the ball is beneath your feet, then do a push up, walk your hands together, walk one hand out, and do a pushup. We were doing sets of ten, and they are really hard.

After finishing a set and standing, she came over to me and said, “You are doing so SO well! But honey, I’m not sure you should be doing stuff like that when you’re pregnant!”

For the first time ever, someone saying I’m pregnant when I’m not almost didn’t hurt my feelings. She was so obviously concerned for my welfare, and she had such a kind expression that I almost didn’t want to cry/hit her. I mean, she so clearly had sat there, weighed in her mind that even if I wasn’t pregnant, she just couldn’t chance not saying something, and she did. It doesn’t help that I’ve lost 4 inches off my waist, but the pad of fat on my stomach hasn’t moved. I do look a little pregnant, with the small waist and poofy lower belly. (Women in my family hoard fat in their torso’s. It’s the last fat to go.)

“Oh don’t worry!” I responded. “My baby is 9 months old. You’re looking at leftovers. Leftovers that have to go!” I smiled a big smile, and I could tell she was totally mortified. Another woman chorused in, “My baby is 21, and I still look like this,” she said, gesturing to her rounded midsection. I smiled again to let the woman know there was no hard feelings. I overheard her later, talking to another classmate, beating her head against the proverbial wall for suggesting I looked pregnant.

“Hey, really, ” I told her, “no hard feelings! I’m touched you were worried about me. I’m super proud of my kids, and every inch I gained with them has got to go!” She smiled and apologized again. I wanted to hug her, but I was really sweaty.

Further tales from the gym. This weight has GOT to go.

This entry was posted in Misc by Jennifer James. Bookmark the permalink.

About Jennifer James

I'm a full time mom who works full time. I'm a painter, a dreamer, and a believer that the most feminist thing you can do is adore your femininity. I say what I think, when it's appropriate for sharing. I write when I feel like I have something to say. I love always.

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