Crying at the gym

I know you've probably heard numerous people say they hate the gym, but I really think I hate it more than anyone else. For instance, have you ever heard of someone sobbing uncontrollably while working out? Well, now you have.

Let me back up.

Every time I move to a new city, I face the decision of whether or not to join a gym.  I belonged to Crunch (R.I.P.) my first two years in New York, and actually faithfully went a few times a week, then New York Sports Club (which I think I literally went to twice in two years). In Boston, I did yoga at a studio in my neighborhood and, in my final months, joined GymIt, a bare-bones $20/month no-commitment gym.

Here in Chicago, my roommate is a member at Fitness Formula Club and there's a location literally across the street from where we live. I hemmed and hawed and toured the place and finally decided to join. My biggest issue so far is that everyone I see at this gym is already perfectly in shape. I'm the only one who looks like I need to be there. And the classes have been all over the place -- I went to a step aerobics class that was kind of advanced (I couldn't keep up with the choreo so I just gave up and just started doing my own thing) and then a yoga class that was annoyingly remedial.

The sobbing came about during my one free session with a personal trainer, a chipper, well-meaning 5'3" man named Juan who speaks so quickly and with such a heavy accent that I only catch about 1/3 of what he says to me. Juan did an assessment of my strength prior to our session, in which it was determined that I basically have none.

I was dreading our actual session and I didn't really understand why until after I broke down crying in between sets of squats and these horrible things called "plank scissors." You see, the gym reminds me of all the humiliation I felt growing up due to being the most unathletic person on the planet.

You think I'm exaggerating, but seriously, I'm the worst. I'm not strong. I don't have good hand-eye coordination or balance. I've never been fast and once my boobs came in, it was clear I never would be. I'm flexible, hence my ability to do yoga, but that's my only physical gift. And from age to 6 to 18, I was reminded on a daily basis in gym class how inept I was. And when you're a kid, being good at sports = being good at life. Everyone sees how good/bad you are in gym. I may have been getting good grades, but I wasn't able to really brag about that. And every time I was introduced to a new sport, I felt this desperate glimmer of hope: maybe this will be the one I'm good at. So what that I couldn't play tennis, maybe soccer would be my sport. Ok, soccer's not my thing, but maybe I'll surprise everyone and be an amazing basketball player in spite of my petite stature. Or hey, maybe my stocky legs and broad shoulders will make me a total animal on the swim team.

But just like in a Richard Yates story, I experienced soul-crushing disappointment when I failed. The inner monologue of "I suck" returned with a vengeance. And what I have realized is that all those feelings come back, PTSD-style, when I'm at the gym. Just walking into the facility makes my heart race and my palms sweat. All my successes in life recede and I'm back in 4th grade, picked last for kickball AGAIN. All I can think about is how ridiculous I must look, flailing around on whatever equipment I happen to be on. How hopeless I am and what a waste of time it is for me to work out, when who I am kidding, I'm never going to be toned and firm. Italian women are soft and curvy, so I'm fighting an uphill battle against my genes.

Juan didn't really do anything wrong. He just happened to be there when I was at my most vulnerable and he was pushing me, which is his job. But something snapped and the next thing I knew, I was blubbering about being out of shape and having a shitty metabolism and apologizing for how much I sucked at all the exercises he was teaching me. I was BAWLING. On the floor. At the gym. Juan felt so bad he offered me a bunch of free sessions. I politely declined.

I will keep going, but one-on-one with a trainer is too much pressure. I prefer the anonymity of group classes or machines where I can watch TLC shows like "Say Yes to the Dress: Big Bliss" and "Teen Moms" and feel a little less bad about myself.

You can never be too rich or too thin

Atkins. Weight Watchers. South Beach. I have tried them all, with varying levels of success.

With Atkins, I simply didn't have the willpower. I would be tremendously excited at breakfast while enjoying eggs and bacon guilt-free, but I never could quite eliminate the carbs from lunch and dinner. So really, I was just adding fat and cholesterol to my diet, which unsurprisingly proved ineffective in terms of weight loss.

I did the Weight Watchers points thing and had more luck, though again, I don't know that it fostered any long-term health habits. For instance, on the weekends I would just eat celery in order to save all my points for wine.

The South Beach Diet I never actually tried because there seemed to be too much cooking involved. And I hate Florida.

My own weight loss has always been accidental, for instance when I got tonsillitis in London and couldn't swallow for a week. That was awesome. My sophomore year of college, a thyroid problem forced me to give up yeast and sugar and the pounds flew off. But you can't always count on a health crisis to lose a dress size.

Whenever I try to count calories and "be good," I always seem to either gain a pound or two or just stay where I am. I'm waiting for the genius to invent the all-carbs-all-the-time diet (that would be Nobel Prize-worthy) but until that day comes, I think it's worth mentioning a few foolproof factors that seem to correspond with slimming down.

1. Be stressed out

When you're stressed out, you don't have time to eat! There has not yet been a study to link stress to weight loss, but usually I'm stressed because I'm running around and have over- committed myself. So maybe the running around has something to do with it. Maybe.

2. Live in abject poverty

I achieved this by going to graduate school. If you don't have money, you can't load up your kitchen with empty-calorie foods! Microwave popcorn may be a somewhat unhealthy snack (it's high in sodium and has basically no nutritional value), but if that's all you eat for dinner, you're saving calories. Also, if you can't afford to buy gas or take public transportation, you'll end up walking more. Good for the environment, good for your ass.

*Note: poverty can backfire in terms of weight-loss if you are a fan of fast food. Watch Super Size Me and read Fast Food Nation to try to break the habit.

3. Have a lot of sex

It's a great calorie-burner. To learn how much you burn in various acts/positions, click here. Apparently, you burn twice as many calories unhooking a bra with one hand as you do with two, so being smooth apparently has health perks.

4. Develop a phobia of elevators

Did you know that approximately 21 people die from elevator-related accidents every year?

5. Travel to a country where it's allegedly not safe to drink the water, and then drink the water.

Ok, so this might put a damper on your vacation, but come swimsuit season, you'll be grateful. Montezuma's Revenge? More like your revenge on all those relatives who gave you the backhanded compliment of being a "good eater."

Obviously, I'm not a health expert and am not *seriously* endorsing the above methods. The refreshing observation that came from attending naked parties at Yale is that most people look pretty good (in clothes and out of them). Few are perfect, and likewise, few are without any redeeming features. So feel good about your body!