Celebrate the goddess within you
Molly Strzelecki
Growing Up To Be a Kid
In just a matter of days, Spring Break will be upon us, Thank God. Because really, don't we all need a break? Even though it is the last spring break of my college career, I am completely OK with the fact that I am only going home to spend it with my parents instead of heading off to some warm tropical destination that ends in a vowel. I am glad for this for one reason: I am definitely not ready to see myself in a bathing suit. And God help anyone else who saw me.
I chalk this up to the fact that I have not been faithful in following Cosmo's eight exercises for a tight tushy or whatever the get thin quick scheme is for this month. Hence, my tushy is not tight, my stomach is not solid and my arms are not alarming. In short, I am a winter wonderland, hibernated pale skinned mess. Magazine cover shots, here I do not come.
This is not to say that I never exercise. I do try. In fact, one of my classes this semester is Pilates, which is a type of yoga that is all about strengthening and lengthening your muscles without adding bulk, as well as without making you all sweaty and out of breath. And just to throw in a little cardiovascular workout, a few of my friends and I were very good for about two weeks straight of getting at least the recommended 30 minutes three times a week workout, thanks to our good friend Billy Blanks. We pushed ourselves through the front kicks and the uppercuts, all the while yelling profanities at Billy and wishing him a painful demise that included lots of sloth-like behavior on top of many, many Big Extra meals from McDonald's.
I continually ask myself, though, as I am sure many people do, why it is I put my poor body through all this. Why do we do this? My friend Emily says she likes to work out because it gives her a chance to clear her head. Clear my head? I am too busy trying to keep my head attached to my body so that I can finish out that last round of crunches and I do not mean nachos. I have even overheard other people say that they like working out, because it is fun. Fun? Soccer is fun. Hockey is fun. Tennis is fun. The Stairmaster is the bane of my existence. I am climbing to nowhere for 25 minutes and when I get there, I am semi-permanently red faced and glowing like a neon sign. (This goes back to the old saying that horses sweat, men perspire and ladies glow. I do not know who came up with that but I seriously question their case study, because you do not even want to see what I look like after a Step aerobics class.)
And all for what? Oh yes, I almost forgot. My well-being. Exercise makes you healthy. And lose weight. And feel great. And look great. And possibly do some serious damage to your mind-set. Last week was Body Image Awareness Week. I will tell you that I am very aware of my body image. Sometimes it is good and sometimes it is not so good. It varies from day to day, month to month. I realize this and accept this. I accept the fact that supermodel shmupermodel, my body does not look like that and probably never will. I was simply not built that way and most likely never will be, considering that I am not up for plastic surgery anytime soon.
But again, I try. I try to get some exercise, however "regular" a basis, even if it is in two week spurts or sporadically in between those weeks. I do not try to be a supermodel. I kind of like being myself.
I saw some sidewalk chalk graffiti last week that stated, "Celebrate the goddess within you!" (For all you guys, change that to god and stay with me here.) What a great thing! Yes! Inside and outside everyone there is something great. You cannot deny the fact that there is at least one good thing you like about yourself. Whether you like your shiny hair, your impeccable wit, your rock hard abs or your ability to always be loyal and honest, celebrate it and realize that you are good. It is this type of goodness that cannot be defined by a bathing suit or an elliptical trainer or even Billy Blanks himself. Sorry kids, but you have to do this one on your own.
Whether you are like me and work out only when I can drag my friend Beth into it as well or you are on a rigid mapped out schedule that gets you exercising three hours a day or even if you're on a three hour a month schedule, I cannot dispute the multitude of benefits from exercising. I'm not saying that it is a bad thing. Exercising is a very very good thing. But keep this in mind: unless your professional job is a personal trainer or an aerobics instructor, working out is not the be all end all of a "beautiful" person. It is a cliché, but it is true: beauty is in the eye of the beholder. You behold it ... not Cosmo, not the treadmill and it sure as hell is not beheld in a Tae-Bo video tape.
Molly V. Strzelecki is a senior writing major at Saint Mary's and can be reached at strz7359@saintmarys.edu. She would like to thank all those who have participated in kicking her butt into gear, especially Alyson, Beth, Emily and Melissa.
The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.
All Viewpoint Stories for Tuesday, March 6, 2001
