Yesterday, as I've done each morning for the last nearly 15 months, I got out of bed and headed to the gym. I do it almost by rote now and throw on whatever workout pants and top are clean. I don't think about it much now, but when I first started a regular routine I was intimidated by the idea of even walking into the gym. I felt overwhelmed by alll those sleek glamazons running like hell on treadmills in tight Lycra outfits. I literally didn't know what to wear. What kind of top would I wear, a t-shirt? Were shorts okay? Would I look stupid?

In fact, I sat on my gym membership for at least nine months before actually going the two short blocks across one avenue. I made all kinds of excuses--I couldn't find the time in my day, didn't feel good, had too many after work commitments, couldn't get away in the middle of the day to hit the branch near work, and the like.

At some point, I realized I was paying good money to be at the gym like everyone else and had as much right to be there as anyone else no matter what I wore. Eventually, I became disgusted with myself for having these feeings. So once I made the commitment to go to the gym on a regular basis in Sept. 2005, I went out and bought new sneakers and some black Lycra/Spandex/stretchy workout/yoga pants and sports tops specially made to wick away sweat. I celebrated my decision to commit to the gym. I thought that if I made the effort to "look" the part, I would eventually feel like a fit person.

I've subbed in a few new pieces since then and my workout tops (a big investment with built-in bras) are too big now but they still serve a very good purpose and they remind me of my commitment to take care of myself.