Let’s be honest, walking into a gym for the first time (or the twentieth) can feel like entering another universe—especially when you’re nothing like what you think a « typical » gym-goer looks like. Today, I was that girl. The chubby one with glasses, pushing open the door with hope, determination, and just a hint of dread. Why does everyone seem to stare? Here’s my unexpected story.
Facing the Mirror—And Myself
Today, I didn’t just sign up at the gym. I forced myself to become a member again because I can’t stand the image my mirror throws back at me anymore. It might sound dramatic, but for my well-being and mental health, losing weight isn’t an option—it’s a necessity. Whether it’s the pressure from society, patriarchy, or who knows what else, I honestly can’t say. All I know is: I need this. For me.
Sure, maybe in some ideal world, I would have learned to embrace my body, its curves, its weight. Maybe I wouldn’t have set foot in the temple of body-worship that is the modern gym. But reality is relentless: my weight has become a problem I can no longer ignore. No matter where the pressure’s coming from, it’s there; but today, I’m choosing my own path forward—one step at a time.
The Awkward Entrance
There I was, the chubby new girl, in a room full of slim, athletic women and sharply defined men. They look like they came straight out of fitness commercials—me, distinctly not so much. Did I feel out of place? Absolutely. Do I know where this will take me? No idea. The only thing I’m certain of: I will give myself a real shot at losing weight. My own way, my own pace.
- Will I reach my goal? Impossible to know for sure.
- Will I get tired of it? Probably.
- Will my motivation dip? Oh, most definitely.
How do I know? Because I’ve traveled this road before. I’ve signed up before. I’ve exercised in the name of weight loss. I’ve tortured myself, gone for tough diets, hardcore cutting cycles, and eaten so much protein I thought I’d turn into a steak. This time, though, I know it’s different—because, well, I know myself by now.
Yes, They’re Staring (But So What?)
Let’s not pretend otherwise—some people did glance my way as I quick-walked on the treadmill. Some probably judged me, too. Maybe some even whispered, “Twenty minutes at 5 km/h? That’s really not much. She could do more. Or better.” Honestly? They’re probably right.
And you know what? I couldn’t care less. That’s their problem, not mine. I know why I’m here. I know what my body’s ready to handle right now, and that is totally fine by me. I will go at my speed, not theirs.
Taking Back Control, One Step at a Time
I don’t know how my story ends. Will I achieve my goal? Will I stick with it when motivation fizzles out? Maybe, maybe not. But this time, something feels different. This time, I’m not chasing an impossible ideal or listening to the background buzz of gym judgment. I’m doing this for me, in my own way, with as much honesty and self-compassion as I can muster.
So, the next time someone stares as I hustle along at my own pace on the treadmill, I’ll remind myself: it truly doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. What matters is that I’m here, I’m moving, and I’m doing what I can—right now. Because in the end, my journey is exactly that: mine.
John is a curious mind who loves to write about diverse topics. Passionate about sharing his thoughts and perspectives, he enjoys sparking conversations and encouraging discovery. For him, every subject is an invitation to discuss and learn.
