I joined a new gym on the same day I launched this blog so as to misdirect my habit of abandoning healthy things. I figured I would use all my quitter points on falling off the fitness bandwagon and thus become a successful blogger without even realizing I was harming my mediocre status quo.
So far I’ve made it to the gym on both Monday AND Tuesday. To me, this means I am a certified badass and I’m enjoying the fact that simple acts like petting my dog cause my abused muscles to scream in pain. I have to embrace it because there’s no telling how long I’ll actually keep it up.
I’m not proud of my propensity for quitting and I definitely don’t want that to be my legacy but to a certain point this is how I perceive myself. According to smart people who write books and give TED talks, it is possible–and helpful– to change your self-perception.
So: I’m shopping for new legacies, one of which presented itself to me in the aftermath of my workout.
After 30 minutes of panting on the Stairmaster, I retreated to the locker-room so as to gasp in semi-privacy. Little did I know this same gym was also frequented by a girl who has invested her entire adolescence working the drive-thru at a local fried chicken joint. She was so excited to see me because, as she said, I “go there a lot.”
HA HA HA polite laughter HA HA HA
I really wanted to go back to picturing myself as the next Gisele Bundchen:
But then her coworker walked up “Oh yeah!” she said, “you used to drive a Range Rover!” They went on to detail every.single.car. I’ve owned since I was 20.
But that wasn’t enough–they even traced my employment history based off the name tags I have donned whilst partaking in trans fat and crinkle fries.
My Gisele fantasies were quickly replaced by the reality that I am the female version of Hurley from LOST who loves chicken so much he bought the fast food joint.
I felt like Zoolander looking in a puddle and pondering my identity, except… I was the puddle.
To at least two people on this planet I am known as the eater of much chicken. Does that matter? Surely not… But it does make you wonder how the people you encounter perceive you, from the most intimate relationships to the random passerby.
I have at multiple points in my life been referred to as a HACKER, a NINJA, a HOOKER, and a SPY and as all four by the *silver fox* who is currently plotting to make my life a living hell. (More on all that later…)
I’d like to think that my perspective on myself is the only one that matters most and that I have the will to change it.
What do you think– Is it important to know what others think of you, and do you make an effort to correct them when you think they’ve got it all wrong? Have you ever been “known” for something as epically non-consequential as a bad fried chicken habit?
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