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| At the driving range. Balls out. August 2013 "Take me out of this place I'm in Break me out of this shale case I'm in Underneath the skin there's a human Buried deep within there's a human And despite everything I'm still human" |
"Human"- Daughter
I was on a high from venturing out as a single, 30-yr old
woman. I felt that I was doing really well. But I still had my moments.
The gym
provided for a great outlet to get out some of the negative emotions that would
creep up on me from time to time. I felt great after beating my body with
weights and hard core cardio. And I was seeing great results. At this time in
the third week of my recovery, I was down about 12 lbs. and began noticing
muscle formation and flattening around my midsection; I fucking had ab muscles
for the first time since high school! I began to notice that my thighs were
becoming smaller and tighter. And the cellulite was disappearing. My trainer
“A” was totally on board with me as well, pushing me to my limits physically.
My old trainer “N” made my night one evening.
“Hey. How are you doing? You guys back together yet?” (He
knew my ex and how long we’d been together.)
“Nope.”
“Seriously? Okay, here’s what’s going to go down from here
on. You’re going to come every night, and we’re going to get you ripped. Make
him regret making the worst decision he ever made.”
Fuck yeah! I was planning on getting ripped anyways. But I
was glad that I had all the trainers on my side.
I found out that my ex was supposed to start at the same gym
that week, as he had mentioned to me in a previous conversation that he had
been “feeling so good, and started eating healthy again, and blah blah blah…”.
Good for you. Apparently I had something to do with him not wanting to take
care of himself. I was on the nutrition train long before we split, so I’m not
sure what I had to do with his unhealthy lifestyle choices.
I was nervous about running into him at the gym. But a part
of me wanted him to see how good I was looking without him and to witness the
juice-heads peering at my ass as I walked to the treadmills. But why did I want
to make him jealous? Why was I trying so hard to make him want me back, even
though I wasn’t willing to follow through if he did come back?
I was angry. Livid at the rejection coming from the likes of
him. Mad at the fact that I knew it was probably over about four years ago, and
that I couldn’t break it off sooner. Here I was at the age where biology was
telling me that I should be popping out kid after kid. I should have been
married and in my own home. I should have been in the same position as so many
other friends of mine. And even though it probably wasn’t the case, I shouldn’t
have lost out to some piece of trash.
After the gym that day, I decided to go to the driving
range. It had been awhile since I had been there, as I usually frequented it
with my ex. I knew it was going to be tough to go by myself since I had always
gone there with him, but I knew I had to start reclaiming these places as my
own. I hated golf, but what better way to unleash my anger?
“Can I get a large basket please? And a driver. A big one.”
I made my way up to a mat, set myself up, focused on my
positioning, pictured his face on the golf ball, and POW!
200 yards.
What the hell? I was never able to clear more than 75 yards.
This was promising. I set up the ball again. Pictured “Who’s” ugly-ass face
this time. 225 yards. I was on a roll. The cute guy in front me smiled at me (when I almost hit him in the face) and
asked me how long I had been golfing for.
“Uh, I don’t golf. I come here when I’m angry.”
“You must be really angry, then. You should play a course
angry. And thanks for not hitting me in the face.”
I was able to have men talk to me in all my post-workout
glory. Brilliant. I worked up quite the sweat going through that bucket of
balls.
I left there a lot less angry. I had been missing out on
positive outlets like that for so long that I was making myself sick with
anxiety not only after the breakup, but during life’s regular stresses in
general. Why did I stop living life only to wait around for my ex to finish
whatever it was he was doing?
My strong, independent woman was coming out.
MUSIC: “This Is The Best” by U.S.S., “Set It Off”,
“Revelations” by Audioslave, “Pompeii”, “Bad Blood” by Bastille, “My Songs Know
What You Did In The Dark (Light Em’ Up)” by Fallout Boy
MOOD: Angry, Determined, Independent, Strong
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