Chubby folk fall under that low rung of society beneath children and the elderly.
Those who should be neither seen nor heard.
Obviously, if you allowed yourself to balloon to the size of a larger zoo animal, you clearly could have nothing of skill or value to contribute to society, right?
I have certainly spent a large portion of my life trying to make my body appear small in a variety of settings that clearly illuminated just how I fit…
…into the seat at the movies or the theater
…into that airplane seat belt
…into the roller coaster car
…into the crowded elevator
…into the revolving door
The thought of donning form-fitting workout wear and bouncing up and down is terrifying for many of us. It wasn’t until recently (like in the last 3 months) that I stopped wearing workout wear that was several sizes too big. Exercising as a 300lb woman felt not only humiliating but physically impossible. And even if you’re a badass body positive babe who could give a flying fruitcake about what your “imaginary audience” thinks, there are very limited options on the market for holding all of that fluff together.
Companies like Lane Bryant, Forever21, Old Navy, and Torrid insult plus-size ladies with their poorly functional line of “athleisure” wear. How am I suppose to run that race in all that cotton!?
Companies like Nike, Under Armour, Lululemon, Athleta – should I go on? – make a thinly veiled attempted at clothing the curvy lady by providing “special sizes” that they lump with maternity wear. Seriously? “Special Sizes”? It’s like a size 20 is a disease or something.
Oh, and by the way, you can never get those sizes in the store – yet another slight that aims to highlight just how little we think of those who aren’t a size 00-10. You’ve got to spend an arm and a leg on shipping only to realize that their size 20 must have been meant for a husky 10 year old and not a grown-ass woman with breasts and hips. And if you happen to find a retailer that does offer “extended” sizing, chances are that they just blew up an outfit like a marshmallow in a microwave without any thought to proportion so that the size 8 woman gets a well-fitting garment and you get a trash bag.
With all that being said, who wouldn’t be uncomfortable throwing themselves headlong into a hike or run or spin class? Who would want to attempt a downward dog pose while worried their capris will split? Who would feel confident and comfortable moving their body and sweating in front of others?
Up until now, I refused to do jumping jacks unless someone was ready to secure all the jiggly bits in place with Duck Tape.
This summer, I really wanted to focus on working through my insecurity of being a literal hot, sweaty mess in front of other people. Naturally, I signed up for a 10k on August 28th (The Philly 10k) to force myself to run through the summer – a time when many Northeastern US runners slack off significantly because of heat advisories and crippling humidity.
Summer smashed into Philadelphia this week. I am already dreading July. We went from cold and rainy to 90 in the span of a week. I completed my first 10k training run (following the Hal Hingdon novice plan) today with an easy-peasy 2.5 miles at 0900 when it was already 77 degrees. I wouldn’t call myself a trail runner, but I much much prefer a good trail to a sidewalk or road. The trail has the added benefit of a lush tree canopy that prevents the sun from bearing down on you as if you’re a sunny-side up egg egg in a cast-iron skillet. The trail also provides fantastic scenery and enough flowery Honeysuckle perfume to ensure that I am not focusing on the body odor that must surely be emanating from every pore.
It was a sweaty, sweaty run. There was also very frizzy hair and cheeks so red you’d think someone had been chasing me. It was also a great run. I changed my intervals from 3:1.5 to 2:1 and felt that my run:walk transitions were much smoother and my pace got a wee bit faster.
I relish the sweat now. It’s a badge of honor.
I just make sure to wear one my trusty hats to keep it all out of my eyes.