*Click on the Picture to see the whole..uh...Picture.*
Well, I just got back from the gym. Yes. I did. Back from the gym. I think maybe the little "doo-dad" in my body that triggers the release of endorphins is busted. (Oh! Side note! I just looked up the work "endorphin" to make sure I spelled it right, and this is what it told me they were!-endogenous opioid peptides that function as neurotransmitters.
Wouldn't it be AMAZING to talk like that?)
Anyhow, I really don't get this amazing "high" after I work out. I always come home from the gym feeling worse that I could have possibly conceived imaginable! I believe there are a few shadowy culprits behind my misfiring, malfunctioning endorphins. Number one, I ALWAYS end up working out right next to a girl like the one above. The city where I live must be the "Land of the Free, Home of the Implants" because there is an alarming number of surgically altered in dames in my vicinity. Now, before some of my customers start sending me angry letters, I want to make it clear that your body is yours, and my body is mine, and my only really firm belief is that we should take care of our bodies and learn to love them, and whatever actions you take to reach that level are your own. Yet, here is a little piercing snapshot into my insecure subconscious. This is a sample dialog from my brain.
Angry nagging voice: "Michelle, look at that woman. THAT is the kind of woman you want to be. No body fat, completely flat stomach, long lean legs, big breasts, busting your rear at the gym like a maniac! Why don't you look that way?
Me:" Well....uh....I don't have the build to look that way. I'm built like a coffee table with a long body and short legs. I thought I looked sort of okay today.
Angry nagging voice: You look OKAY today? You look like hell! Look at those love handles! You could hang a beach bag off of the side of them! Why don't you look like THAT LADY? SHE doesn't have love handles.
Me: Well....uh...that lady must only eat celery. (remember, the voice that I use answer the ANGRY NAG is sort of like the voice I use to talk to angry customers: timid and trodden down with a hint of guilt and lack of self confidence.)
Angry Nagging Voice: "Then Why don't YOU eat celery? You'd be A LOT happier if you were thinner. Thousands of other women have beautiful thin bodies. If they can do it, why can't you?
Me: *faltering* "I...just....like brownies so much" *This voice comes out in a breathy, defeated rush of sound.*
Angry Nagging Voice: "You're pathetic."
Me: "I know."
The funny thing is that NO MATTER HOW HARD I TRY, I will never look like that woman unless I spend a lot more time at the gym, wear 5 inch heels every day, and get breast implants. I'm not even comparing myself to something that is achievable with hard work and sacrifice. I'm comparing myself to a woman that is an enhanced version of the human form. OH my heck, I'm going to get soooo many angry letters over this one. Oh, well, I'm voicing my opinion anyway! YOU ladies with surgically altered bodies get to look smoking hot every day, so don't step on me and make me feel worse than you already do. Your power over me is supreme, so just wallow in it. Yes, I'm insanely jealous. You got what you wanted.
Anyway, so at the gym, there's always the super hot girl working out in less clothing than I wear in the shower, and I'm sitting there looking like a swamp monster. That's another thing! Why do pretty girls NEVER sweat???? I know they're working out hard, or else how did they get those bodies?? However, there is no telltale sweat droplets in sight! What the devil???
I guess that's why I like corsets so much. It's still an "enhanced" version, but it REALLY is all ME. When I'm in a corset, I don't sit and compare myself to other women, which is OBVIOUSLY what I do every time I go out into public. I HATE the comparing and contrasting. I don't know why I do it. I should compare myself against a good version of myself. So, for instance, I could have a really attractive picture of myself hanging somewhere, and when I feel and look like poo, I could gaze upon the image and think, "I want to look like that." And then I would do it. And then I would feel good about it. It would be something that is personal, possible, and achievable. Heck, if all it takes is 15 more minutes of doing my hair and makeup, and throwing on a few more necklaces to look like the pretty version of me, then I'll DO IT! If all it takes is lacing on a corset, why not?
I think I'm going to start wearing corsets to the gym.