I used to be annoyed by her presence.
She always had on workout clothes… whatever those were. She just always looked like she was headed to orrrr just leaving a rough and rugged workout session. I hated that. She couldn’t ever just have on a cute outfit, some heels and have freshly ran a comb through her head. No. Just workout clothes.
She was always talking about how she “eats whatever she wants,” but when I look at her plate… there was no pie. There was no ice cream. There was no snacks. There was no big hunk of meat in the center of the vegetables. There was no fried anything. Who WANTS food like that?
She was always walking somewhere. I mean… always. Her gas bill must’ve been crazy low, because the chick was always walking. Da hell? How do you walk everywhere? Everywhere? Really?
And grocery shopping with her… awww, good grief. Grocery shopping with her was beyond annoying. She’s always turning her nose up at things she sees in the aisles, and reaching for staples. Stuff that had to actually be cooked. WTF? All these glorious foods in boxes that only require a little microwaving… and you want to cook? How stupid is that?
She was always saying “no” to things, too. “No cookies, no cupcakes… I’m not in the mood.” How is someone “not in the mood” for cupcakes? CUPCAKES? Hell, the PRESENCE of cupcakes gets me in the mood for cupcakes! How can you say no to that? The possibility OF cupcakes in and of itself is serious business… it is not to be turned away. Ever!
Her little frame… it was hard for me to not hide my scowl, wondering how on Earth she pulls it off. I mean, I’m comfortable in my own skin an’ whatever… but her? I bet she sticks her finger down her throat. There’s no way a woman can look like that without going to extreme and drastic measures.
She’s so obnoxious… with her glowing skin, ponytail swooshing back and forth as she walked somewhere…ugh. If I could be me, but look like her… I’d be happy. No one wants to be that damned obnoxious about looking good, anyway.
I swear I used to think these things about that fit bitch.
Well, until I became… that fit bitch.
It’s actually kind of interesting. The position I’m in, because I write for this blog, makes it especially ironic because when people DO ask me how I became “that fit bitch,” I can just point them to this blog. What answer do I get?
“I don’t wanna read all that shit. I just wanna look like that… and eat what I eat.”
It’s so funny… because I used to swear that I could accomplish that, too – eating what I eat and looking the way she looked. It never dawned on me that her benefits were the result of her lifestyle, much like my consequences were the result of mine. And until I changed that, I had no choice but to live out the consequences of my lifestyle. My lifestyle – the combination of choices that I make each day.
I didn’t want to be obnoxious. How bizarre is that? I didn’t want to learn how to live and be healthier because I perceived it as being obnoxious. I never actually questioned what I found to be so obnoxious about it in the first place… I never questioned whether or not it was fear that kept me from pursuing living like her. I just wrote it off as being obnoxious, and went on about my merry little way.
And, isn’t it funny how that works? I decided that it was obnoxious because it wasn’t common place. She was “being different for different’s sake.” She was “being uppity… turning down cupcakes.” She was “being stuck up – bourgeois, even – by turning her nose up at the stuff in the grocery store aisles.” Not once did I ever ask why… because I felt indicted by her choices. Her visible decision to not live like me felt like a judgment on MY lifestyle choices, and instead of opting to learn and understand why she does what she does, I wrote it off. Even though I knew that how I was living wasn’t working for me, I wasn’t ready to be humbled and receptive to learning how the way SHE lives was working for her. Funny how that works.
Don’t get me wrong – I know there are lots of people who find me obnoxious right now… with all my proselytizing about sugar and processed foods and being active and no quick fixes and no excuses, blahhh, blah blahhh, blah blahhh… all that bouncy mess. I’m also acutely aware of the fact that that’s the reason why many people “cling” to me. There’s literally NO representation of that kind of woman in our day-to-day lives (at least, that’s the truth for many of us) and while I might annoy the hell out of the people I deal with on a daily basis… they still have an outlet to satisfy their curiosities regarding how I live the way I live and why I make the choices I do.
I’m also aware that lots of people feel like the choices I make are a judgment of them personally. They’re not. Lots of wonderful people make – what I’d consider – misguided decisions every day. The choices I make for me are what works for me… and while I certainly don’t judge another person, I definitely make a judgment regarding any decision – if I like it, I adopt it for myself. If I don’t, I let it fall by the wayside. That’s how life works. It’s not meant to be personal, it’s not meant to be taken personally.
I’m always amazed by how we allow ourselves to be ruled by the perception that others hold of ourselves. I mean, I’m more amazed by it NOW because I’m more conscious of it now.. but even still, do we fear being “the obnoxiously fit bitch?” Do we hold ourselves back because we fear offending the people we love the most? Or do we write off the opportunity to learn a little something from someone we think may have the answers because we fear feeling told “you’re doing it wrong?”
In the grand scheme of things, how much weight do their thoughts truly hold with us? Enough to prevent us from achieving our own goals? Really? The same America that scowls at the presence of “the obnoxiously fit bitch” could also use a lesson or two in how to be fit… what, with the 60%+ of Americans being overweight, at at least half of that number being obese.
So… I’m sayin’. Stop looking at your neighborhood “obnoxiously fit bitch” as if something is wrong with her just because she’s different. Ask her why she makes the choices she makes. Accept that her answers might make you uncomfortable, and embrace that discomfort as an opportunity to grow. And for goodness sakes, adopt her cupcake philosophy. Just say no!