The Embarrassing Reason I Started Going to the Gym

I’ve been going to the gym for approximately seven years now. It’s safe to say I’m addicted to the improvements in body image that it brings (self and non-self), no matter how fast or slow. Whilst this length of time is an adequate amount for a well-known gym-personality like Joe Delaney or Joe Fazer to inspire millions with a ‘body transformation’ video on YouTube, my transformation has been much more humble. Nevertheless, progress was made and I am very happy with that progress, so much so that I will continue to strive to make more progress for the foreseeable future. None of these gains would have been possible, however, had it not been for a fateful, humiliating moment for me in P.E.

It was the spring of 2018 and, as any 16 year old that doesn’t consider themself an alpha, I was self-conscious. It was a Friday so I was due to start it with Period 1 P.E. — a double whammy for any wanna-be pessimistic thoughts! We were warned by our PE teacher in the changing rooms that this lesson wasn’t going to be a normal PE lesson where we played football for an hour. No. Instead, today, we were going to do some athletics to “spice things up”. Being scrawny and not having much muscle on my frame, I never really looked forward to athletics – simply because I wasn’t good at it. As some of you may relate (we should be friends if so!), it was embarrassing being one of the worst in class.

The lesson was going mediocrely as expected, until things took an exceptionally dark turn for the worst. When we got round to the long jump, the teacher had decided that it would be apt to put my ex-girlfriend in charge of the long jump scoring for my group. This was my ex-girlfriend who had friend-zoned me 3 years ago back in 8th grade, and someone who I still had strong feelings for — -secretly. Thankfully, we were still on very good terms, and I had always hoped that she’d end up fancying me again.

Naturally, I was incredibly worried that a poor long jump showing would decimate any chances I had left of her liking me again. The last thing I needed right now was her to see me as weak! In hindsight, she probably already knew. I envisioned scenarios of her telling her friends that I was the worst in the group. Such anxiety-inducing thoughts made me want to sneak off to another athletics drill, but the fear of being shouted at was too frightening for a teacher’s pet like me. I also couldn’t have friends speculating that I was being shy in front of my ex-girlfriend. Such news could give them a reason to believe I still had feelings for her, and that was something I could not risk.

It’s no exaggeration to say that a lot was on the line for me. And yet, a solemn dread filled within. I knew that no matter how much effort I put into this long jump, my lackluster legs would be no match for the majority of boys in my group. It was top set after all.

I waited at the back of the line for what felt like an eternity. Boy after boy performed their long jumps, the best and most eager going first. Finally, it was my turn. Despite putting in more effort than a Karen trying to get her McDonalds for free, I landed a good three feet away from the large sand crater where all of the other boys were landing.

I turned, embarrassed, towards my ex and joked that long jump had never been “my thing.” She giggled. If the humiliation hadn’t already been enough, my malevolent P.E. teacher decided that we should all have two more attempts. Each one was as pitiful as the last, and I vividly remember walking back to the changing room with an overwhelming feeling of shame.

“I’m just naturally weak”, I told myself, the word “naturally” providing me comfort by taking away any accountability. But the comfort wasn’t enough; I was incredibly dissatisfied. And that’s when an idea, a sudden “eureka” moment occurred. For the first time in my life, I was going to work out.

That very same day, I asked my dad to get his old weights out from under the bed. I remember him teaching me exercises that I’d seen muscular men do on TV, and the excitement of doing 10kg barbell bicep curls to failure. I was determined to make sure I’d never be embarrassed to such an extent in PE again, and, if I was, to make sure that I was actively doing something about it on the sidelines.

After six months of home workouts I had great, much-welcomed “newbie gains”. Then I took a brave leap and bought a gym membership. This decision was made as I wanted to start training my whole body, not just chest and arms (nobody dreams of being “all chest, no back and legs”, after all). Home equipment would not suffice for this – I needed those big, scary squat racks and barbells weighing 20kg before you even put any plates on them.)

Buying a gym membership also came with the added benefit of my ex potentially viewing me as a gym lad! “Maybe such a shift in identity would finally make her fall back in love with me!” I thought. To some this might seem like a toxic relationship with the gym. After all, I started the gym out of an insecurity that I was weak and, to some extent, “not good enough.”

And to that I say, you’re absolutely correct! However, what I can say from my end is that, toxic or not, going to the gym is a habit that has undoubtedly changed my life for the better. It has taught me discipline, inspired me to make healthy changes elsewhere in my life, and, most importantly, stopped me feeling awkward about taking my shirt off on the beach. I truly hope that working out has had as life-changing an impact on your life as it has mine, and, if you’ve not yet started, I strongly implore you to do so.