Self Love

Sometimes, things happen that shouldn't.
I know that, and yet it still surprises me how certain things play out.

This week, thus far, has just been one of those weeks.
The ugliness people crap into the world makes me crave naps and a bee bee gun.

Let's begin with Monday. No one likes Monday in the first place.
I work as a personal trainer in two different gyms.

My boss at one gym called me in to talk about some issues that came up, and I didn't know what these "issues" were until I walked into his office.

"I've heard that you might be giving out your competition prep meal plan and talking about it to your clients."

Yikes.
Ouch.
Rage.

Absolutely not.
I will come clean, because I think honesty is the best policy.
I go to counseling on a weekly basis to discuss my disordered eating, body dismorphia, and anxiety. I am hesitant to voice this on such a public format, but I am not ashamed.
*If you are dealing with any of these issues, or find this post triggering in anyway, I'm more than happy to talk to you and offer a shoulder to lean on.

The idea that someone thinks I would hand out such a strict meal plan or even suggest resisted eating is disgusting to me. I know that people begin to struggle with their bodies and views of themselves whenever they create an unrealistic body goal. That has never been and will never be my goal. I struggle with my demons each day, and I would never give someone the tools to struggle along side me.
To make my boss understand this, I came clean. I told him that I attend counseling for the reasons above and that I would never push that lifestyle on anyone else.

I thought my troubles were done, but I was wrong.

Today, I received an e-mail stating that he felt it may not be in our best interest that I continue to train clients while I am struggling with my issues, and that if I would like to have hours I can work alongside other coaches for bootcamps, but not having any clients of my own. My issues are "too close to my training for them not to somehow overlap."

I cried.
I cried for thirty minutes.
I felt pain, I felt betrayal, I felt unfairly punished.
How is it any different for someone to say, "I'm sorry, you can't work in this hospital, your eyes are hazel."
"You shouldn't have your own clients, because you struggle with disordered eating."

Then, I was angry.
I decided then and there that this wasn't going to happen to me.
Not without a fight.

So I called him.

I began with my prepared speech,
"I understand your concern, but I disagree. I have been dealing with my personal issues for far longer than I have been a personal trainer, therefore there is no reason why I shouldn't be able to do it now when I was doing it eight months ago. I have worked just as hard as every other trainer on staff and I have earned my spot, blah blah blah"

Now let me pause for a moment.
I am not making this post to bash my boss, in any way. I have respect for him, and I enjoy working with him. This is merely a post for empowerment.

Ahem,
Me: Tell me your reasoning to think that I am unable to train someone. Tell me how I am a danger.

Him: I have been watching you since you quit prepping and I have noticed some things.

We all know where this is going.

Me: What have you noticed? Have you seen me shame someone's body?

Him: No.

Me: Have you seen me encourage strict dieting?

Him: No.

Me: What have you seen. Just say it.

Me: Say it. Just say it, I know what you're thinking.

Me: You didn't see me doing anything bad. You saw me gain weight. Say it.

Pause.
I wish I was making this up. Unfortunately, this is reality, you guys.

But, I did not let this beat me.
I'm not letting society win.

Yes, world, I have gained weight. Don't be shy, it's not like I didn't know.

To this, I respond:

Fuck you.

Looking back at my small, malnourished body that didn't have a menstrual cycle for six months, hell yeah, I miss being that small.
But I don't miss being exhausted.
I don't miss being cold all the time.
I don't miss the stress.
I don't miss the pressure.

And let me tell you, while this body of mine is heavier than it was then, this body is healthy.
This body feels refreshed in the morning when I wake up.
This body is a regular temperature.
This body is less stressed.

But the pressure is still here.

So I asked him,
If you were to have a client who went away for the summer and came back heavier, would you shame them for their body? Are they less of a person, is their worth lower because they are heavier?
He responded with the obvious answer: no.
EXACTLY. You wouldn't. Because a body means more than it's shape.
What about the soul in that body. Are they happy? Do they love their life? The people in it? Do they have fun? Are they kind? What are their talents?
Does none of that matter because they are heavier now then they were two months ago?
They are a person, not a body.

So I asked again:
"Then why would you ever do that to me? I am a person."

I'm not naïve you guys, I'm not. I work in an industry where your appearance is the most important thing. And I know that when people look at me, they must be thinking "Damn, Emma packed on some pounds."
It sucks knowing that. It's hard. I get anxiety going into the gym every day.
And you know why I do it?
Because, no, I may not be the perfect standard for a personal trainer, but I'll be damned if I'm not an example that regardless of your size, you deserve to be whoever you want to be, you deserve to pursue things that make you happy. And that's why I train people. Because sometimes, people need to hear that they don't need to loose twenty pounds to allow themselves happiness.

And it's time to start living this for myself.

And I'll start by meeting my first new client thanks to my boss.
"Train her and make her just as strong as you."

Today, I'm thankful for my strength. Not my physical strength. My mental strength. I stood up for myself. Instead of being my hardest critic, mentally shaming my appearance, and mistreating my body, I was the one who stood up for it.
There was a time not long ago where I could never do that.

One of my best friends asks me often on my hardest days: "What would you say to 10 year old Emma?"

Today, he instead said: "Today you stood up for 10 year old Emma."

So yes, everyone.
I gained weight.
I'm chubby.
I'm a bigger pant size, two pant sizes actually.

But I'm caring.
I love reading books and going to live concerts.
I give.
I love my family and my friends and would do anything for them.
I encourage.
I volunteer.
I support.

I gained weight.
But dammit, I'm proud.