On Saturday I stepped further outside of the spot I have carved out as my comfort zone and participated in a photo shoot. Yes, I willingly submitted to having my picture taken. There were a dozen or more moments that morning when I wanted to bolt and hide in the back of my friend's car until it was over. I didn't run, I had my picture taken in 2 different poses and as part of the group of 30 people who participated and I had a good time.
On Sunday I saw two of the pictures from the photo shoot and realized that the next time I need to do as much mental preparation as I did physical preparation. As much as I have changed my knee jerk reaction to pictures of myself is the same. That sad, resigned feeling that "Well, at least it's not as bad as it could be."
Don't get me wrong, I am proud as can be of the pictures. They are proof that even if I keep finding a comfort zone I can also step away from that spot. That seems pretty important to me. I'm all about safety and comfort or I used to be. I didn't take chances, risks were for other people and I would run away from anything that seemed remotely challenging.
I decided to do something even braver than have the pictures taken in the first place. I posted one as my profile picture and put the other on my wall. I wanted any friends who hadn't liked the Fortitude Fitness Systems page to be able to see them. I wasn't sure what people would say, I wasn't sure I wanted to know, but I chose to confront the fear and post away. Not one comment was negative, they were all complimentary and I was surprised.
My surprise at the positive comments made me wonder what it will take for me to accept that I am not the person I think I see.
I remember being young and wishing I could be pretty. All my friends were pretty. I was the sidekick, quiet, shy, funny on occasion and the person my friend's boyfriends would talk to when they wanted to know what was going on. My grandmother was quite philosophical about the whole thing. I don't recall ever asking her if I was pretty, grandma wasn't a warm, fuzzy woman and I was afraid of what she would say. Her comment on the subject of pretty was "Pretty is as pretty does."
I don't think of myself as pretty now either. Strong? Absolutely. Pretty? Never. I realize I'm not hideously ugly, but by society's standards of beauty I'm not it. I've also realized in the last two years that looking nice on the outside is worth nothing if what's inside you is ugly and rotten. I would rather look like a troll than be a pretty package with nothing inside.
I am NOT asking anyone to tell me I'm pretty. I am who I am and I'm fine with who I am. I am not society's definition of beautiful. I'm something that's much more important to me: I'm strong. I'm strong enough to complete 2 workouts in a row. Strong enough to push a sled that weighs 90 pounds, with 90 pounds of plates and an instructor on it. I'm also strong enough to sit through a meeting without compromising what I know to be right no matter the provocation.
In addition to being strong I strive to be a kind, compassionate person. I will help my friends when I can and I don't mind a bit. I set high standards for my students and I ALWAYS treat them with respect. I am firm with them, but they know I care about them and I will advocate for them.
At the end of the day I'd rather be a strong, good person than pretty. My strength will last a lot longer...
Thanks for reading!
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