didn't know i would still be emo at 22

i did something real tough for me today. i mean really, i guess it’s tough for most people: taking yourself out of your comfort zone, trying something completely new. something you know you’re probably going to be bad at.
i’m very bad at being bad at things – if i’m not good at things, i don’t want to do them.
so, i took a pole dancing class.
i am not a dancer, i am not graceful. i have never found anything on this level to be remotely easy, so i just didn’t really do it.
however, having fallen completely out of love with long distance running and weight lifting, and not having done any exercise for like 4 months, i decided enough had to be enough and i needed to do something that actually seemed interesting to me. so i signed up to this class.
not only was i putting myself in a position where i was going to be entirely new and bad at something, i also was putting myself in a position where i wouldn’t be wearing much clothing and there would be mirrors and a room full of people who were most likely gonna be athletic looking.
i fucking hate my body. like… i really fucking hate it. i walked into that room in my shorts and hoodie and looked at all these toned, lean girls and i wanted to walk straight out again. obviously my anxiety was so fucking high that walking out of there would have been even more stressful than staying.
it’s so hard when your mind makes subconscious comparisons between your body and … l i t e r a l l y every other body you see, all the time. constantly. even worse when you’re mostly undressed in a room of fit girls and floor to ceiling mirrors.
it was shit.
it was hard and it was shit and i felt shit and honestly i still feel shit. and i was bad at the stuff and it was hard and it was shit.
but i did the thing. and i enjoyed it. and i want to go back next week. and i want to not hate myself.
one day at a time, i guess.