Gym Paranoia

Lately I have been spending more time on the “manly” side of the gym.  I’ve been following a weight lifting program called Weight Training Workouts That Work by James Orvis.  It is really hard being a slightly chubby girl walking into the buff and muscle-y dude section without being a little intimidated.  I am worried that I’m doing it wrong, that I’ll hurt myself and that I look like a complete idiot with my 10lb weights on both ends of the Oly bar like some sort of anemic undersized olives on a giant martini toothpick.  But hey, everyone starts somewhere.  So onward I go. 

It wouldn’t be so bad if I wasn’t a chronically embarrassed person.  I don’t mean in the just plain low self esteem kind of way.  I mean low self esteem coupled with tripping on perfectly flat surfaces in front of loads of people, walking into a silent room full of people taking at the top of my voice about something completely inane kind of way.  So I just know I am going to do something stupid and embarrass myself in front of a bunch of men.  I usually avoid crowded spaced like the plague, but it seems that I and ALL the muscle-y men are on the same work out schedule. 

So, don’t think I’m crazy but, when my workout buddy Amy and I were at the gym Sunday afternoon I thought I saw a guy surreptitiously taking my picture mid squat.  I mean, is there anything less attractive than me mid squat with ridiculously low weights on my big ole Oly bar?  No! 

I have been obsessed with the idea of what happened to that picture.  Is there an entire website dedicated to goofy workout pictures with hilarious captions?  Am I the butt (literally) of some “oh no she didn’t” blog?  I am not going overboard here.  If you have to sneak a picture, it’s not going to be displayed in your favor is it?  I mean, who hasn’t visited People of Wal-Mart to laugh at what passes for OK to wear in public?

For those more assertive of you out there, I know you are wondering, “Why?”  Why didn’t I just confront him?  I mean he was giving me the shifty eyes as I was scrutinizing him, trying to figure out exactly what he was doing with that cell phone that was no longer pointed at me, but not up to his ear or in prime texting position.  Confrontation makes me ill.  That’s why.  I wish I had asked him what exactly he was up to.  But if I had, I’d be too embarrassed to go back over to the squat rack since I’d made a scene over there.  And I need the squat rack.  It’s my ticket to losing the chunk.

Another reason I am suffering from the Gym Paranoia is excessive sweating.  See, last week after a particularly vigorous battle with the StairMaster, I was wondering why people were looking at my crotch and then averting their eyes very quickly.  When I got over to the mats to do my post workout stretching, I knew why.  I was soooooo sweaty it looked like I peed my pants a little.  I took pictures after another workout to share, but they were too humiliating.  I can't do it.  I thought it would be freeing to be in charge of humiliating myself on line but, umm, not really.