Another event I've been meaning to write about happened at the gym a few weeks ago. I started attending a new class--Total Body Conditioning, 90 minutes of combined aerobics and weight-lifting (low weight, TONS of reps). I took a spot way in the back so as to be as inconspicuous as possible among the 30 other (much more fit) women and the token male. I spent the first half-hour of the class with my eyes glued to the instructor. But then my gaze was distracted by the sight of something long and white flailing in the mirror (three of the walls are covered in them--mirrors, not white flails). I have long ago realized that I completely lack grace, coordination, and rhythm (all requisites for an aerobics class and one among many reasons I haven't been in one in years and years), but I was nonetheless momentarily horrified to recognize that the apparation was my own arm, very much out of sync with the other jumping jackers in the room. As if being off-beat wasn't bad enough, my second rush of horror assaulted me when I realized I was entirely recognizable in the mirrors--anyone in any place in the room could see my face! My entire head stuck up above the crowd!

Now, I know I'm taller than most. I realize that I squat down a tish when I hug my enviably petite friends, but what is normal for me must be normal for the world, right? THEY are short, they are the anomolies, but I am only slightly above average. . . Right?! Like I said, we normally see ourselves alone in the mirror. Suddenly thrust into seeing myself in comparison with a crowd of women, I realized with a jolt that the "slightly" that I'd always clung to (the "slightly" that allowed me to resume wearing high heels after a decade hiatus) was a bit of an understatement. In fact, I saw that I was even taller than the token male.

It isn't that I abhor being tall. It isn't even that I wish I wasn't. It's more like I just didn't know how tall I really am! I knew about the inability to make my body conform to actions more complicated than walking (let's just say I'm not too interested in seeing myself walking in a mirror anytime soon either), but I was sincerely naive about the height issue. It doesn't actually bother me except that the whole inconspicuous thing is a bust.

I have continued to attend the class as faithfully as I can. And, each time I do I rehearse the mantra that it's okay for me to do my best, even if it looks ridiculous or pathetic in comparison to the other women in the class. I remind myself that not only were they naturally endowed with a sense of rhythm (but they probably can't blog very well and they don't know the secret ingredient to the World's Best Frosting), but they've been at this for a long time and know what to expect from the instructor. I'll get it too, someday. Okay, maybe that's still unrealistic, but I will get better. And doing what I can is soooo much better than sitting around doing nothing. And, what with all this great exercise, my legs can only look better and better in those high heels!