When I was in high school I was arguably far less at ease with my own body. I was never overweight in any (really) noticeable way, I just jiggled more than I was comfortable with. It did not help that I had a number of rather svelte friends (actually, I should really qualify this: they were just a lot smaller than me in general. It's really easy to feel like a giant if your friends are all 5-nothing and 98 lbs. At the same time, I was rocking a 5/6 at Express and worried that traveling ranchers--those who travel routinely to the D.C/Metro area-- might mistake me for straying cattle) who loved to discuss how their doctors told them to gain, rather than lose, weight. My mom spent most shopping trips telling me to go up a size. I was 19 before I realized I wasn't actually a large at the Gap (never haven been really, thanks mom!) I want to think that she assumed I would still "grow into things" even in high school.
This paranoia was only compounded by costumes I was shoved into during high school. When I was in 10th grade I played Medea in our present-day adaptation (set in the ghetto, yeah. I can prove it. I have it all on DVD) of the Euripides tragedy. I had to wear a cropped one-sleeve shirt. You know how hard it is to stay that sucked in for two hours and yell (ahem, "project') at the same time. Not cool. The next year, I was a Hot Box dancer in Guys and Dolls. Of the four costumes I had to wear, two required sit-ups (one of those was a bikini...always a good choice when teachers are present) and one was sewn too small. Way too small.
One of the tiny girls was usually the costumer.
The point of explaining all this? It all went through my head yesterday when, after doing a body composition test on me at the gym, a personal trainer told me I needed to gain 5 lbs and I have a body age of 18. apparently my body composition is only 15.1% fat (I have 123~ lbs of lean muscle and 23~ of fat, which amounts to 15%...or something like that.) 18.1% and under is where athletes want to be. 14% and under is unhealthy for women. Apparently if I lose two pounds I will be unhealthy. Here's where I get confused. Paul, the trainer whose services I will not be requiring, wants me to gain 5 pounds of lean muscle. Not fat. Wouldn't that make my fat to muscle ratio lower, thereby putting me closer to the "dangerous" range? I'm not good with math.
Other than that, I didn't learn anything about my body I didn't already know. I'm smack dab in the 50th percentile of women my age when it comes to strength. I need to work on that.
I'm in the 90th percentile in terms of flexibility (though not in the 90th percentile of any dance class I've ever taken). They made me take a sit-and-reach test. Total Presidential Physical Fitness test flashbacks (always did well in those, by the by).
The only really crappy thing is that he suggested I spend more time in the scary free weight section of the gym and far less time on the Nautilus machines. I really like some of those machines (some of them are admittedly lame). I don't know what to do in the scary free weight section. It's scary. All the men (because it's mostly men over there) growl in front of the mirrors and say vaguely erotic things to each other, without being attractive enough that I'm cool with it.
I'm going to the gym tonight, we'll see if I can brave the free weights.
On a completely unrelated note, I came home from the gym last night and found Bagel, my faithful ward, hanging out in the kitty litter. Not eating kitty shit (mercifully) just chilling in the box. If she would learn how to use it, that would be one thing. As it is, she's getting a bath when I get home tonight. Maybe two.
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