It never ends! Why the assholes don't disappear when you lose 20 lbs.

  The other day I was at the gym when a man approached me and tried to sell me weight loss supplements, saying that they had worked for his wife and would work for me, too. Earlier this week, I was given some unsolicited advice on how I could "lean down" a bit more. Two years ago, I guess I wouldn't have been so surprised. Still pissed off, but not as surprised. Two years ago, I'd just had my second child and felt about as svelte as a hippo. But now... Now I'm a fitness trainer. Between two years ago and now, my body became so strong that there feels like nothing I can't do! In that process, I got abs that show, arms and a back that can do 15 pull ups, legs that ran a fast marathon, and glutes that will kick you across the room. I'm no stick, I'm short and I weigh 145 lbs happily, but my physique is powerful. I look as strong as I feel. My bill of health is ten times better than two years ago, in fact it's optimal. I am right where I want to be. I have no tricks or gimmicks to thank, nothing but good knowledge and honest work.





    But those ass holes thought I wasn't good enough.





    Even now that I feel the best about myself, they thought less of me.






Two years ago, I would've cried. My day would've been shot. I'd have started a ridiculous, excessive diet, determined never to fall victim to such criticism again. I was weak, and deserved their indemnification, I'd think. In my mind, I'd be telling myself, "6 months from now, he will be eating his words!" I'd think about how good I would feel about myself 20 lbs from now. For a week, I'd be a shining example of control and discipline. Then I would fall off the wagon, stare in dismay as the scale told me I'd gained weight, feel the hopeless loss of control and know that those men were right, I was worthless. Only half the woman those people online were. Those women online have three kids, I only have two! She had a baby 6 weeks ago, and look at her! Beachbody this, Herbalife that, no carbs, all carbs, P90X.... they all promised I'd be happy because I'd be thinner. I'd look at pictures of myself with disgust. I'd see my beautiful friends next to me, and my pathetic self in the middle. They were shiny and happy and although they were the same weight, they pulled it off. Not me, I looked sloppy. That was me, two years ago. Not all the time, but enough of the time.


Almost a year ago, I ran a marathon. I wasn't always a runner. In fact, my pack a day habit made 400 ft seem like a marathon. I quit smoking so I could get pregnant 5 years ago. I never started back up, but I was pretty sure I wasn't a runner. Running a marathon doesn't make you skinny, that's a pretty big fallacy. But it made my legs into machines. And in between miles 18 and 24, it pulled out of me a will power I never knew I had. A will so determined and instinctual, that I felt invincible. When I crossed the line at 26.2, my lips were so blue my sister tried to break though the security line to help me. I was in so much pain walking back to the car that I just stopped and cried. But when I got back to my car, I slapped that "26.2" sticker on my car and took a picture. For once, I didn't give a shit that my tummy pooch was showing. Who would dare say some shit? I just ran a freaking marathon, my first, in 4:28! I was a monster! An animal! I was strong! I had done something I never thought I could do.


Later, a friend told me about an opening for teaching group fitness classes. After becoming certified, I had my first class: Tabata. Then I added more and more classes, became trained in more and more methods. The more I learned, the more I respected my body. My background in fitness rounded out. When I reached for motivation during exercise, I stopped focusing on losing 10 more pounds. I'd find myself reflecting on the things I'd done during boot camp 9 years before, how I'd had dirt smeared in my teeth, and done flutter kicks holding my weapon. I was strong. I started focusing on how my kids loved going fast when I pushed them in the stroller during runs, and how they'd soak in the sun and squeal, "weee!". I was fast. I'd start thinking about how powerful I'd punched the bag in kickboxing training the day before; how it gave me the confidence to lunge towards what I thought was an intruder opening my house door (actually our wiener dog) rather than cowering as I usually would have. I was confident. I was me. I found I was so much more than someone trying to be skinny. I wasn't pre-Hallie, always waiting to bloom because I was a little too chunky still. I am strong, built to explode with power, perfect the way I am. I'm not without my challenges, I learned I have a hole in my heart a few months ago. It makes me turn blue (cyanosis) and get faint when I'm pushing it really hard during exercise, but that's part of my victories. I am just an ordinary person who sought beyond weight loss.


So this week, when those ass holes criticized me, I didn't cry. In fact, I didn't even become sad. I was angry. Not because they considered me in need of weight loss, but because they were perpetuating the idea that I CARED about weight loss. That that is what all women care about. In these past two years exercise and healthy habits did more for me than weight loss. They gave me the power to rise above what society thinks I should be. I am a person capable of so much more than being skinny and my brain has better things to do than stress about weight loss. MY BODY'S BEAUTY IS NOT CONFINED TO WEIGHT!


Assholes never go away, no matter how skinny you get. So spend your time on finding what makes you happy, and the rest will follow, and when assholes attack, you'll find you have the power to swat them away like the pests they are.