So much for going to the gym making you feel better. I just went for my induction thing now and feel utterly pissed off. And quite angry actually.
I had my little chat with the instructor and confessed that I hadn’t been to a gym for 4 years (well, I have been busy having babies, you know) and then he got out his scary fat pinchers and did some measurements and calculations. “There is a degree of obesity there,” he pronounced after consulting a chart.
I nearly fell off my chair. Hello?! I wear size 10 trousers. How can you be a size 10 and obese? If you saw me walking down the street, I promise you would not think “Oh, here comes an obese person”. Okay, you wouldn't think, "Blimey, she is so skinny I'm surprised she hasn't snapped in half", but all the same... I am not obese.
I felt like crying actually. Back in my teens/early twenties I had what the magazines would coyly call ‘body issues’ – namely I felt really fat and ugly all the time. I look back at photos of myself then and do you know what, I was neither of those things. It was all in my head – put there by a few nasty ex-boyfriends and certain other horrible people. Anyway, I feel a bit sensitive about it even now so I couldn’t keep my mouth shut this time. “I think that’s a really dangerous word to use, obese,” I told him. “I don’t think you should use that word lightly – it’s very emotive.”
He just didn’t get it. “I’m not saying you’re obese,” he went on blithely. “Just that you’re carrying around some excess fat that you need to lose.”
Honestly, I felt like going home there and then. I know that probably sounds very drama queeny and humourless of me but… you know. I felt like I’d been slapped.
I’ve got to go back on Friday morning to learn how to use all the torture machines. Whoopee-do. I can hardly wait.
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