Shut Up, Gilda

I am a Gym Whore. I put out to work out!

Real growth is not allowing other people’s business to bother you. Apparently, I’m still a work in progress. That gorgeous gym instructor, Cynthia, newly out of her 10-year relationship with her live-in boyfriend with whom she bought a house, is still hanging with her new guy. He’s everywhere she is, like a leach. (I bet he looks similar to her ex!) One of her girl groupies is obviously not happy about this liaison. If looks could kill, this chica sends stabbing daggers when she looks at the couple cavorting together before class. I KNOW that Cynthia needs to chill before entering another romance. I continue to keep my big mouth shut. I repeat, “At the gym, I’m Gilda, not Dr. Gilda. Shut up already!” But my Dr. Gilda self explodes. This morning, it was nearly time for class, and Cynthia and her honey, sartorially decked in wife-beater apparel, continued to joke around. In my mind, she should have been attending to preparations for our class. Really, my motive is to interrupt their flow. I was unable to control myself. I can't blame it on the time of day or my mood. I simply screamed out, “OK, it’s 6:30. Let’s begin already.” My demands fell on deaf ears. Cynthia waited to finish her banter before she began the class.

I scold myself: “Gilda, stop trying to help people who don’t even know they need help. Let Dr. Gilda take over when people reach out TO HER.” Oh, this painful dichotomy! In the back of my mind, I hear Oprah and Eckhart say, “Be present.” My self-scolding continues, “When you’re at the gym, transcend into your Gym Whore persona—and don’t let anything interfere with the enjoyment you derive there.” I continue to try. But I still worry about Cynthia... Shut up, Gilda, so that Dr. Gilda can do her job!!