
Last year, I wanted to get back into pilates but I didn't. I told myself I had too much studying to do, too much on my schedule to add anymore. It was sad, really, to cut what I enjoyed out of my life like that.
This year, I knew I would take pilates. Today, I kept that promise and started a pilates class that I eagerly look forward to continuing every Tuesday until the class ends (around exams--natch--this is a campus, after all.) As I lengthened and stretched, concentrated on my breathing and form above a indoor Olympic-sized pool, I felt exillerated. I walked home, cheeks rosy, thinking back on my long and unhealthy relationship with exercise and diet.
It began when I was a teenager living away from my parents in Puerto Rico. There were many other teens also living there and it quickly came to my attention that my body wasn't ok. I had a rather large, um, bum. Being skinny my entire childhood, I wasn't sure how to deal with this new, ahem, development. (That's the last one for this post, I promise!) I heard of some exercises that shrunk the gluts so I eagerly and clandestinely practiced these moves late at night after everyone went to bed. The problem was, I performed these exercises in bed. And I slept on the middle bunk of a triple bunk bed. Very quickly came vigorous discouragement from continuing my secret exercise routine.
In my late teens and early twenties, I knew I was fat, disgusting and gross. Entertaining thoughts my body might actually be deformed, exercise became my focus. In my mid-twenties, I upped the ante and ran 3-4 miles a day. My diet was strict but loopy, with way too much daily candies and sugar. I was desparate to change the entire shape of my body and tried to will away any curves. But my obsession kept me thinking about food constantly.
After developing an eating disorders, a fortunate move to Florida changed everything! Instead of trying to force the body I wanted, I relaxed. I was happy. In a warm climate with endless social and career posibilities, life was exciting. I had crushes on cute guys and dreams to pursue. I started to like myself. Instead of candy, I naturally craved fruit and carrots. The weight just fell off. And stayed off--ten years later.
Instead of exercise being a medium to lose weight, exercise became something that I did because it made me feel so good. I tracked my build up of stamina, my muscle mass, my endurance. Early morning runs became about connecting with a new day, watching the sun rise, stretching my muscles and pushing myself. Discovering pilates a few years later, I lost myself in form, breathing, and stretching. I loved how pilates made me stand up straighter and taller. The hour always passes too quickly.
I wish I could go back and talk to my younger self. I would tell me that body image is warped by living through others' eyes. I would assure myself I was not, in fact, deformed but in reality possessed a body that adjusted to time changes easily, that healed quickly, that carried 15 lbs bookbags on its back for years. There was never anything wrong with my body, even when I weighed a bit more. Yes, I should have eaten less sugary stuff. But I don't even like sweet stuff anymore. It all evens out.
The important thing is that exercise has become a treat for me, something I do for the right reason. This is a triumph over my former eating disorders and bad body image. I am proud of the thrill exercise gives me--for its own sake. Every pilates class from now until I'm eighty, I will enjoy pilates and enjoy my body.