The Cute Girl at the Gym

How many of us feel, on a normal day, that we look good? How many of us feel like we'll pass but get no high marks? How many of us think we look like we rolled out of bed at 2 a.m. with one eye sealed shut by sleepy goo and the other one wide open with the pupil dilated for no good reason all day? If you're like most women, you fall in the middle. You feel okay in what you're wearing. Your hair is fine. Your make up, if you chose to wear make up at all, doesn't look like it was done by a three-year-old so, yay! Overall win for you! What about when you go to the gym? Yeah...totally different story.

Every time I go, I look at myself in those huge stupid mirrors on the other side of the room and hear this little voice in my head that says I don't belong there. Because, you know, the gym is for skinny beautiful people who really just go because they're narcissistic and like to watch their muscles flex in those evil mirrors and make kissy faces at their own reflections. Before you tell me I'm wrong, I'll beat you to it by saying I know that is not the case. Always.

I went to the gym tonight for the first time since getting my heart monitor on three weeks ago, and boy did my body feel it. I was sweating, my round, bean shaped face was red, I was panting like Tom Hiddleston had just come in the room, I had a bandana on my head to cover my sweat-drenched hair that makes me look even more balding than I really am. I mean...messy, gross, and not feeling all too great about myself. But I was there. I kept telling myself that. I was there, and that mattered.

And then I saw her.

Here I am, this four-foot-eleven-inch tomato doubled over on a glutes machine as I try to push and extend, the wheezing coming out of my mouth reminiscent of a chain smoker on her death bed, and this petite little blonde girl walks over near my station. She's got the classic all black ensemble of skin tight yoga pants and black sports tank. Her hair (which was totally dyed, I'm sure) was curled in that way some women can do, making it look effortless and natural even though it would take me at least five hours to get it done right and then it would fall pin straight five minutes later. Her make up was done beautifully and she had ruby red lips that glittered when the unnaturally bright lights above her caught the top coat of gloss she'd applied at one point.

I hate you, was the first thought that ran through my mind, subsequently and immediately followed by, I hate myself. For once, I was able to get my thoughts out of that dark place fairly quickly and direct them to a more healthy place: back on the girl. What? It was healthier for me at the moment. I scowled at her with my inner Gremlin, thinking, Really? You have to come here looking like that when the rest of us feel like gross piles of slime? I actually stewed in my irritation for the rest of the thirty minute circuit I was on, watching every male head turn in her direction when she passed them, blissfully unaware. It wasn't until I was driving home that grace tried to edge its way into my heart.

Once upon a time, I had a friend who could not do anything menial without looking cute. I mean, cute outfit, cute hair, full on makeup. She literally could not leave her apartment if these things were not in place, and it was because she had so little confidence in herself. I was one of the lucky few to see her without all her trappings (pun fully intended) and got to see how vulnerable, uncertain, and uncomfortable she was in her own skin. When she was all done up, even to go do laundry, she was a totally different person. She was sure of herself, funny, easy-going. Remembering this friend made me wonder if this cute Barbie-esque girl at the gym was like that. My friend was, and still is, gorgeous. This girl was gorgeous. But I don't know her struggles. Maybe she does have issues with confidence, maybe she doesn't. Either way, I had no right to assume the things I did about her, and I should not have compared myself to her. I shouldn't compare myself to anyone, because no one else is me, and no one else is walking my path.

As annoyed as I was by her presence, I'm actually really glad I saw her today. Not only will she be something of an inspiration for me to keep going to the gym and working hard, but she served as a much needed reminder that what we see on the outside is not always what is going on in the inside. I think that's a reminder we could all use from time to time.

Hello, Lovely

Several weeks ago, I walked into church and saw a friend I hadn't seen in weeks. I'll call her Gabby for privacy's sake. Though there were several groups of people between us, I made like a fish swimming upstream and slowly worked my way through the sanctuary until I could get to her. As soon as I was close enough and we made eye contact, I broke into a huge smile, threw my arms around her, and said, "Hello, gorgeous!" In my embrace she gave a light, almost bitter laugh and replied, "I certainly don't feel gorgeous." As we parted, I realized she didn't have any make up on, her hair was carelessly put up, and her clothes were not as "up to standard" as what everyone has come to expect from her, simply because she is always so put together. And yet, she was beautiful.

It's rare these days that I don't greet my female friends with some variation of the way I greeted Gabby that day. "Hey, beautiful." "Hello, lovely." I don't say these words carelessly, but honestly. We live in a world that is so focused on outer beauty that we often forget that age old adage of beauty being more than skin deep. In this wonderful age where we are beginning to accept the fact that a woman doesn't have to be a size two or even a size twelve to be beautiful, we're still not quite yet there when it comes to looking beyond the flesh. Let's face it, men are visual creatures but women are just as visual. We pass someone on the street who is better dressed, taller, has better hair, and we think, "Ugh. Her life must be so perfect. I bet she's so stuck up." Who knows what men think? I don't know that I want to be privy to that information. The point is, we don't see someone like that and think, "I bet she has a generous spirit." We still, whether we mean to or not, on some level, let our eyes determine how we view others.

Don't think for a second that I think I am any different. I know I make snap judgements of others based on what I saw, especially strangers. How fair is that? Without getting to know someone, I think I have them all figured out just by seeing them across the room. That outfit must have cost a fortune; clearly she has money. Look at that piercing; such an attention seeker. Look at how short that skirt is; no standards and no shame.

But what if people did that to me? Now, I'm not a huge fan of this term, but I'll be the first to admit that I have resting bitch face, meaning if I am not smiling or making an active effort to show some kind of emotion on my face, I look ticked. I'm not. Generally, it takes a great deal to get me irritated enough to the point where I actually am angry. I've also been told I look like a lost or abandoned child. So, you know, my go-to faces aren't the best representative of who I am, yet people who don't know me see me and assume I am one way or another. They hear I am on disability and look at me only to see nothing wrong on the surface, which leads to other judgements.

Guys, we have got to stop doing this to each other. And by guys, I mean all of us. We have to stop assuming we know someone just by what we see. You can never know a person's heart by looking at the name brand shoes they're wearing or how well kept they are. I have found in my own life that there are people I have made snap judgements about, thinking, "I will never have anything in common with this person," who have gone on to be some of my closest, dearest friends.

That is what beauty really is. When you see a person and you light up because you know you can trust them, that you can be honest and vulnerable with them...I don't know anything more beautiful than the glow of someone who has someone invested in them and loving them for exactly who they are.

Ladies, if I see you and greet you with this compliment, people know that I mean it from the bottom of my heart. I don't care about your make up, your hair, your clothes...I care about you, and I do think you're beautiful. Love makes everyone beautiful, and there is no greater example of that than the unconditional love we receive from God. If He can look at a walking, talking mess like me and think, "That's my beautiful, precious daughter," the least I can do is try to look at others through His eyes. Who knows? My next life-long friend could be among those I have harshly misjudged because I was too distracted by what was on the outside to see what was on the inside.

That being said, I'm going to style my pink hair, put on my sparkly gray zebra print sweater, and go do some errands.