Yes, and here’s why!
I had forgotten my Why. We all do from time to time. But my bestie rang to tell me that her 15 year old daughter was joining us at the gym, and suddenly I remembered.
It all came back. Sitting in a row of girls in the first grade, all of six years old, and sucking in my tummy because I thought I was fat, fatter than any of the kids around me. Puberty hitting, and not knowing what new lump or bump was going to turn up on my body the next morning. At 15 I got a vomiting bug and discovered how easy it was to be bulimic. And so on. I hated my body. I hated that I wasn’t as slim as the other girls. I hated how short I was. From the moment we are born until the moment our bodies die, girls are inundated with messages and images telling us how we should look, and implicitly or sometimes even explicitly told that we are somehow less if we do not look this way. And unfortunately, I took every one of those messages personally, and hated my body for all the ways it feel short.
I became fascinated with the human body, and drew sketches over and over again of what the ideal form looks like, at least in my mind. I’d sketch for hours, looking at myself in the mirror and noting all the areas I hated and wanted to change…..which was basically everything.
I did want to try athletics, to try weights, and was fascinated with body building. But I was told I should do something more feminine, like ballet or dance or something. That is until I was 17 and an autoimmune disorder appeared. Then the doctors said I may as well be allowed to do as I pleased, because there was no telling how much time I would be able to do so. Silver lining was that I could now go to the gym, and I did with vigour, trying to ‘fix’ the body I hated so much.
Enter the football coach, who had the team lifting weights off season. He knew he could get even more funding if he had a girls’ team, so he began recruiting. I joined the powerlifting team. Suddenly the focus was not on how I looked but on what I could do!
And my god, the human body can do amazing things! Suddenly being short was an asset, because I had better leverages! Could I do just five pounds more this week? Suddenly the focus was on what I could do, not how I looked. I could set goals and actually reach them! With every pound I lifted, I felt stronger, not only physically but also mentally.
Suddenly no one cared what size jeans I wore; (did they ever, or was this my own issue? Who knows!) People wanted to know how much I could squat. And the powerlifting team was the first time I’d ever been part of a team, all cheering for each other, all wanting to lift each other up, all wanting to get stronger. I had found my tribe. We all looked unique, and none of us looked like something from a magazine cover. But the focus was not on aesthetics, it was on ability.
I couldn’t tell you exactly when I left bulimia behind. I do remember going to bed one evening and realising I hadn’t vomited in weeks, and hadn’t even thought about how much I hated my thighs and stomach in months. Because I no longer hated them. I loved my body, loved how strong it was, loved how it did what I asked it to do, loved how I could set goals and meet them, loved myself for my abilities instead of hating myself for what I was not.
Only a small fraction of girls will ever be supermodels, but everyone can lift weights and find their own unique abilities. The gym taught me this and helped me to love myself, for who I am, for my abilities, and not to focus so much on the superficial that doesn’t really matter. So, if you ask me why I lift, I will tell you that I lift because it taught me to love myself for who I am, instead of hating me for what I am not. For this reason, I would recommend the gym for every girl I know.
