There are two types of people that go to the gym…
Type A struts through the doors while wearing cute, hot-pink tank tops and skin-tight black pants. Everything matches right down to their pink shoe-laces and water-bottles.
And then there are the Type B people… Those who look as though they just rolled out of bed and shuffled to the gym. You know, the people who wear sweat-pants one size too big and baggy t-shirts of any shade imaginable.
Just call me Miss Type B.
I do have plans on buying an official, workout outfit that actually matches as a birthday present to myself in June. 😉 (Because for the record, I don’t have anything against workout outfits that actually match). But until I do splurge on actual fitness gear, I’m not exactly a pretty sight when I walk into the gym for a workout.
And it’s okay. I’ve been running for years (although I’m just now getting back into it), and I’m used to being selfish when I run. As in, I don’t care how bad I look. I’m there for me. Nothing more. Nothing less.
If you’re frightened by my crazy hair, makeup-less face, and man-sized T, then please look the other away. I’m here to get my heart pumping and to focus on my health. I’m not here to win a beauty pageant.
But Friday, I happened to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror after my run on the treadmill, and I determined that this was a particularly bad day. My hair was in a crazy pony-tale, my face was red from the exertion, and — well — it was just that time of month that leaves me wanting chocolate, a good cry… and extra stretchy pants. You know… That time.
I groaned. Looked away. And headed for the locker-room to grab my stuff.
Nate and I were walking to the car together when I mumbled, “I really need to buy a workout outfit. I can’t wait for my birthday.”
“Why, what’s wrong with what you’re wearing?” Nate asked.
“Hmmm, hello!?!” I said, waving my hands at myself. “I need some help here.”
“Really?” he said, looking puzzled but also quite sincere. “I thought you looked so pretty.”
Okay, fine, he said that I had looked ‘hot’. 😉
I think my mouth dropped open in shock.
Even in my worst state, he still thinks I’m pretty. He most certainly hadn’t noticed that my clothes weren’t very flattering or that my hair wasn’t done. Or if he had noticed, he hadn’t cared. He was just happy that we were there together, working out and getting back into shape. He actually appreciated the fact that I wasn’t wearing makeup and that I was just looking like… me.
He still saw beauty when I couldn’t.
And to that, I give this advise to any of you single gals…
Find someone who will love you for who you are… always. Who can find the beauty in you, even when you can’t see it in yourself. Don’t settle for the guy that wants you to lose that last five pounds or who wants you to do your makeup perfectly before you go out.
Find a guy who loves you for you. Always! 🙂