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Renee CK

writer, editor, tweetable http://twitter.com/chicskirt

I'm a fun girl who's on a quest to figure it all out. I'm cynical but living the dream- I'm not sure how that happened exactly. Follow along in my blog for fun, mayhem, and merriment. There's never a dull day! (Or, go download my book!)...

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The Dove Campaign Comes to My Y

or at least needs to

I love me.  I do.  I love that when things get tough, I fight back.  I love that I’m open minded enough to entertain thoughts without having to accept them.  I love that I am a nurturing person.  I love that I’ve figured out what I want to be and am working my way towards being it.

But, I hate my spare tire.  You know, the bulging roll under my belly button. 

After 2 kids, one via c-section, I could play it off like I earned it.  But that’s not true.  I’ve pretty much always had my spare tire in one size or another since about middle school.  I was a dancer in my early years, ages 3-9 to be excact. But then the money for classes ran out as did my teacher’s scholarship program and with mom working, there would be no running here, going there for more dance, soccer, gymnastics, or whatever else I wanted to be active in.  I hate even “big girls” who say “oh I’m so fat” when their stomachs lay in a straight line between their button and the bottom of their zipper.  You may have junk in the trunk, but to me, you’re bodily blessed.

So, this morning I had my United Methodist Women’s circle meeting.  I got up earlier than usual so I could get my workout in and get a shower at the Y because church is 1/2 way between home and the Y.  It’s been a long time since I showered at the Y.  I taught swim lessons there and after being soaked in chlorine all afternoon, all I wanted to do was get the h-e- double hockey sticks outta there and retreat to the solitiude of my own shower.  I don’t enjoy thinking about the funk that may or may not be growing on the tile of the common showers.  I don’t mind coming home all sweat covered to have some peace and quiet surrounded by my own prep-area of sorts. 

When I grabbed my gym bag with it’s trial size shampoo, mini body puff, and other travel size goodies, I put my clothes in it, shoes, hair dryer, makeup...the necessities to be ready for my 9:30 meeting, and headed out.  I wondered then why my bag seemed less full than I remember it being when I used to shower at the Y.  I figured it was because I “only” took a dress and let it go.

So there I was in the locker room. Separated my during shower things from my post shower things, and headed in.  I stripped down and then it hit me- what is it I use to hide myself from the rest of the world, even that small walk between the shower and my locker?  MY TOWEL!!  I forgot my towel! 

I was already running late so I kept my forward trejectory.  The whole shower I’m thinking how am I going to do this?  The aquatics office was right around the corner and I know they always have a spare towel or two.  I could go there.  But then I’d have to get dressed and I didn’t have time.  Could I sneak out there naked?  How stupid!  That’s farther than the 15 feet to my locker AND through public domain vs. the women-only area I was currently occupying.  Thinking about Kim’s post about the Dove Campaign for Real Beauty, I finally decided to remind myself that I’m beautiful.  My body has a story.  If I could shake off a bit, I would not only walk to my locker, 15 feet before me, but I’d strut it proudly.  Kinda.  But still, I’d just done an hour and a half workout.  Yeah, but spare tires don’t disappear in one 90 minute session, or even 3 a week for the past 2 1/2 weeks. Hey, wait!  Our neighborhood pool just closed.  I bet I could find a spare towel in my van.  I’m still running late and getting dressed to go to the van would take even more time I already don’t have.  And I certianly can’t go naked all the way to the van!  But, I could do this. I mean, who was going to see?  Bolstering confidence, I rinsed the conditoner out of my hair and began to rinse the soap off my shoulders when I heard younger voices.  I peeked around the corner and there were 2 13-year old girls over using the swimsuit spinner.  OH SHIT!  It’s one thing to love the skin you’re in, it’s totally another to scare the shit out of pubescent girls by carrying your spare tire right past them dripping wet. Now what?

They didn’t go away before I got the suds off. They didn’t even leave while I squeegeed my body off, or even when I jumped up and down to get off whatever else I could.  Maybe I could justify ripping off the shower curtain.  I contemplated it while gathering my sweaty clothes and shoes from the stool outside my shower- and thankfully watched the girls walk off.

I swear, you can’t win for losing.  The looks I get from other Y members is a whole ‘nother blog but dammit, I’m not going to get into any decent shape if I’m not in there.  Certainly nothing where I’d have the option to leave my towel. 

Oh, and I was still 1/2 hour late for my meeting. And I was giving the devotional.

I think that I need to write to the Campaign for Real Beauty and have them teach a seminar at the Y.  I will volunteer.  I know the lessons already, I mean I love me.  But even old dogs can learn new tricks!

Enjoy!
Renee