I’ve been fat my entire life…literally, since birth. At a whopping ten pounds and 11 ounces I was a star at the hospital simply for my impressive baby dimensions. Since I was dealt the fat card at a very early age, I have tried to pretend the card doesn't exist. To my despair, you can’t really ignore being fat. So since I was about 12, I have seen approximately 20 different trainers and nutritionists. I have seen a handful of specialists who have tried to give me a medical explanation for my ever-growing backside and have even turned to pills in a vain attempt to solve my issue. After all that time and money, I realized that I was going to have to eat vegetables, drink kale smoothies and do this thing called exercise, which I've heard people talk about time and time again.
Now I’m 21 years old and still dealing with my weight. At this moment in time I’m super into overspending for my workouts and have taken up SoulCycle. SoulCycle is the place where beautiful, hip and Botox-injected Miami divorcees go to work out. They are always wearing expensive sports bras so as to show off their newly nipped and tucked bodies. It only makes sense that I, a mildly obese 20-year-old girl, would join this group of housewives to show off my impressive love handles. I must say that I have surprised even myself while I’m doing ma thang on da “saddle.” (For those of you who aren’t well versed in SoulCycle talk, the saddle is the seat on the bike…I know, super trendy and different).
Today, I rode my little tush off. Although my sweat smelled faintly of butter, I felt extremely accomplished. I was yelling out throughout the class, dancing to the music and lifting the crap out of the 1-pound weights I was given. I was feeling good. At the end of the class, we do a little meditation period where the instructor peacefully tells us to take in a big breath. I took in my breath and held it — honestly she should have instructed me to release the breath earlier because I almost passed out…but that’s beside the point.
We were told to release the breath, come down, and hold on to our ankles. While I was down there, pretending I could actually grab onto my ankles, she told us to think about what we want to leave in the room today. She spoke of breakups, fights, and any negativity we were holding on to. The room was silent as everyone thought of their one thing; I think I even heard someone crying in the distance. The energy in the air was almost religious, as everyone got ready to leave behind a weight that has been present in his or her life.
We were told to count to three and slam our hands onto the floor, presumably symbolizing us slamming our negativity down into the ground and leaving it there. She began to count to three.
- One — heavy breathing filled the room and the girl in the back was now full-on sobbing.
- Two — the tension built as the class prepared to slam the ground and finally…
- Three — I slammed my hands down onto the ground as I internally shouted out: LET'S GET RID OF THAT DOUBLE CHEESEBURGER COMBO MEAL YOU ATE FOR LUNCH TODAY, FATTY.
And in that moment, I had never felt more alive.
