I went out for a jog outside today instead of going to the gym that I joined. It’s an absolutely beautiful day in Wisconsin. The snow has melted! Although I’m not sure how long it’ll last... *sad face*
I was reminded how much I hate to have anybody see my jog.
A car passed me on the secluded little country road that I live on.
And that’s when I remembered.
It was 9th grade. My first year of high school. There were two rival middle schools in our County, but in the end, we had to put away away our friendly hatred of each other to attend the same high school.
But it was okay.
Because we were very mature 14-year-olds.
Ninth grade meant new friends. And new boys.
“There’s a guy that looks like that at our school?!” My friend Bertina pointed out a tall, blonde football type guy from our bus.
I’d seen him before. He was from the other middle school.
And he was hot.
But there was something about the way she noticed him that always stuck with me.
“A guy that looks like that!”
There’s a certain sense of pride and awe in her observation of him, And of course attraction in that sentence.
I remember in that moment wanting somebody to say the say the same thing about me.
Which was impossible because I looked like this:
I'm the one on the right.
And I realized that I still subconsciously wanted somebody to say that about me.
“We have somebody that looks like that at our work?”
“We have somebody that looks like that shopping in our store?”
“We have somebody that looks like that (insert a ridiculous scenario)?”
But, due to my predisposed genes, the likelihood of that happening are slim. No, this isn’t a “I hate myself and need people to make me feel better” post. Far from it. Even when I lose the 50 pounds (hopefully this year), I probably won’t be the female equivalent of that guy from my freshman year of high school.
(I just Facebook stalked him and he doesn’t look as cute as I remember....)
Among other learning experience, my five years in college were a time were I realized that I wasn’t drop dead gorgeous. What a crazy day that realization was! Just kidding. There wasn’t one event. On a good day, I’m cute and funny. And that’s fine. I don’t think God makes all of us to be incredibly attractive.
So, to you men and women who are incredibly attractive all day everyday, use it for good. Not evil.
But me, when I do my cardio, in those moments where my breathing is labored and I just want to quit exercising, I’m going to pretend it’s not all in vain, and that a girl that looks like that is exercising.
This post has no great moral lesson.