There are a lot of folks that are uncomfortable going to the gym — no matter what size. I touched on the subject Saturday in my presentation. Here’s a repost of a blog I wrote this summer on gym discomfort – I tweaked it a little.

I’m always thinking about y’all. How to inspire, encourage, and reach you. Y’all have become a significant part of my life. You give to me and I give to you – reciprocity at it’s best. This weekend while at my mother’s house the answer to one of the questions many of you have asked me finally came to me. It’s funny how that happens. For weeks, I’ve been trying to come up with an answer and nothing. Then all the sudden. The answer came to me.

Many of you heavy folks, heck some of you not so heavy folks are intimidated by walking in the gym and getting your workout on. The equipment is part of the intimidation factor, but the main issue is what other people think. Let’s be clear: Who cares what they think? Who cares what they say? Let ’em talk. First off, they probably really aren’t thinking about you — they should be concentrating on their workout. Again who really cares. They’d talk about you just the same if you were at a restaurant gorging yourself on highly caloric food — probably even more so then. And really I think most people if they are talking about you are applauding your efforts.

You have NO idea the compromising positions I’ve been in throughout this journey. When I started working out at the gym I was a whooping 294 lbs. I was guaranteed to be the heaviest, most out of shape person in the Group X classes I was taking. Sure, I was intimidated by folks and looking in those mirrors was mortifying. Lying my huge body down on the ground on a mat – oh my, God. Having to run, jump, plank, dance. All things I was very uncomfortable with. Some things I just couldn’t do, other things I wouldn’t even try. I didn’t let those fears or the fears of what others thought of me get in the way. Some days it was overwhelming. Some days I’d come home and cry.Looking back on those experiences I was my own worse enemy.

During my time at the gym. I’ve met some encouraging people in classes and out in the gym as well. Some of these folks I still talk to today and I call them my friends. Most people look at me with admiration. In boot camp, (I was about 285 lbs.) they would applaud for me after I reached the finish line when running relay laps. One day I was in the locker room talking to a woman and I mentioned to her that I was on my way to Yoga class. Next thing I know she shows up to Yoga and plants herself right next to me. After class she told me I inspired her — if I could do it, surely she could (she’s an average size woman). Her and I are still friendly with one another to this day.

At the end of the day, it makes no difference what others think or say about you. People are going to talk about you no matter. This is about your health, well-being, and livelihood. Do what you have to do, to better yourself and let NO one stand in your way. I speak from experience when I say you probably really are your own worst enemy – stop!

  • If you are intimidated with going to a class: Ask a friend to join you. Or stand in the back of the class until you feel more comfortable.

  • If you are fearful to use some of the equipment out on the gym floor. Ask your front desk folks about an orientation of the equipment. Most gyms will be happy to walk you through and show you how to use the equipment.

  • If you can afford a personal trainer – an even better option. One-on-one routines geared towards your fitness level and you’ll get proper instruction all set at your pace. I train with Northwest Personal Training and have complimentary passes to get you started. Email me: farewellfatso@gmail.com if you’re interested.
Chrisetta Mosley

Chrisetta Mosley

I am a product – and now a survivor – of childhood obesity. As a child, my family always told me that my extra weight was merely baby fat and I’d eventually grow out of it. I never did. Instead, my childhood is filled with memories of not being able to ride a bike, flattening its training wheels from being over the recommended weight, and avoiding P.E. classes by any means necessary. For years, I wore my fatness like a wounded soldier wears a Purple Heart - with pride. I owned the look. I dressed it up. I worked the room. There wasn't a skinny girl who intimidated me. I made sure my hair was laid just right. Nails polished. Outfits coordinated to the tee. Accessories to compliment every outfit. But everyone has a breaking point, and mine came in the spring of 2004 when I tipped the scale at nearly 400 pounds 388 to be exact. I was MISERABLE trapped inside of that body. I no longer wore my Purple Heart with pride. Rather, I was ashamed and frightened. Ashamed that I had allowed food to become my everything – frightened I would die because of it. Drastic times called for drastic measures... Today, I’m bound and determined to live a better, healthier, active lifestyle. I realize I’m no longer a passenger in my life, I’m the driver. I’m overcoming my inhibitions and I’m slowly but surely saying farewell to my old childhood nemesis, obesity. For once and for all, Farewell Fatso!

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