More Than A Smidge

So I have to write about it, don't I? Yes, I do. Last Saturday, I chose to undergo a body composition test, also known as a body fat test. I've had them done in the past, once with the pinch method. And once holding onto one of those little machines that can somehow tell what you are made of with not much more than a handshake. Both of those were done more than two years ago. My diet has greatly improved over the last year, especially in the last four months. I've lost weight; I've gotten stronger and faster. And I gave up sugar. SUGAR! My best friend. I gave it up. That alone should be worth at least a point or two on the fat-o-meter, right?  

It was with this mindset that I approached the body composition test last Saturday. This test uses ultra-sound technology and is supposed to be more accurate than the tests I've had done in the past. I thought it would be really cool to get a new benchmark using this method. So I showed up early for my 9:30 am appointment, ready for my number. The thin young woman applied the gel and the ultrasound wand to my abdomen, my hip at the top of the hip bone, and the back of my arm—the three fattest parts on my body, but I guess that's the point. After a minute, she pointed to the result on the computer screen. I was stunned. It was higher than two years ago, higher than the worst that I had prepared myself for.

To add insult to injury, she then explained in excruciating detail where I landed on her chart. "Women in the range of 13-19% are considered athletes. Those in the range of 20-24% are considered fit, while women between 25 and 30% are still acceptable. Anything above 30% is considered obese or unacceptable." Yep. That's what she said.

I was more than a smidge above 30%.

After three years of hard work in the gym, in a matter of seconds, a woman I don't know and who knows nothing of my struggles and hard work, waved a wand and deemed me unacceptable. No matter than I can deadlift 270, back squat 225, squat clean 140, swing a 70-pound kettle bell, do double-unders as well as some little people, and run. Yes, this obese girl can run. And that's what I did after getting my "label." I was too upset to join the group workout as I had planned. So I left the gym and ran. I ran a little loop around the gym and then decided to keep on going. I ran and ran some more. I ran past all the thin, "acceptable" people waiting outside Flying Biscuit. For some reason this made me run faster. And I thought to myself, "hey all you biscuit-eating bitches, watch this unacceptable, obese chic sprint up this hill." And that's what I did.  

It took me a few days to shake this off and get back in a good groove. But I have put it behind me now. Mostly, anyway. It's just a number and a label for those who need it. It changes nothing. It doesn't change who I am or what I can do. Or what I need to do, which is continue to eat well and CrossFit and live my life, even if some may find me "unacceptable."