Unapologetically Authentic

I've been a trainer now for about six years...

six painstaking, wonderfully stressful, enjoyably challenging and fulfilling years. My love for (strength) training began when I started working out with a trainer back home in Toronto.

I had been working out at home for quite some time, mostly running on the treadmill and with lighter weights, but I soon discovered that I needed more...

I needed to be pushed harder, to be taught something new, to be encouraged and supported. So, I joined one of those big-box gyms. It was surely intimidating. ALL the women were on the mindless cardio machines for endless amounts of time in the middle of the room and the men surrounded them in the weight area with their protruding pecs, bulging biceps and boulder shoulders. I had absolutely no idea what to do with all those weights and machines... I would need to hire a trainer!

And that I did...

Sure, it cost A LOT of $$$$ but I kept telling myself it would be worth it all in the end.

It's an investment in myself.

He was my first and only trainer.

The trainer who instilled in me the confidence and knowledge I needed to break out of my comfort zone to reach new fitness milestones. His name was Kam. And I obviously had a crush on him. But turns out, I became more inspired by the strength (both physically AND mentally) that he invoked in me.

And so it began...

After work, at that time I was the program coordinator for a seniors' outreach centre, I'd get to the gym, arrive 15 minutes before my training session (I didn't want to miss not one minute) and wait eagerly to find out what we'd be working on. I recall my consistent complaining every time he had me start with lunges. Those damn lunges. How much I hated them. But how much I loved what they did to my legs... I learned about the barbell... and then came the deadlifts... OH BOI! My life had been forever changed... the addiction for iron was ignited. That power. That badass feeling to lift something heavy from the floor, knowing I was doing it with the right form and understanding how the body should be feeling during that movement- it was truly transformative.

Like a pauper to a princess, it was magical!

And so it continued...

The training, the personal records, the physical changes, confidence and self-esteem I built, it was a positive cacophony of such a wonderful change I saw in myself. Then, one day, Kam said to me- you love training so much, have you ever thought of becoming a trainer?

**MIC DROP**

HUH? ME? a TRAINER?! >>>>>> can I really do that? YES I CAN!

Fast forward months of studying and with the help from my trainer (become tutor), hours of memorizing muscles, insertions, origins, terminology etc, I got my certification. I turned my passion into my profession. With my BA in Gerontology and now a Certified Personal Trainer, the next step was a specialized diploma in Older Adult training... and so on and so forth, I obtained more certifications, more hours of work experience, clients and testimonials...

And here I am today...

Reflecting...

Being unapologetically authentic: it's a hard fxcking industry!

It's extremely competitive.

Every other person is a fitness 'guru'.

Every other block has a new fitness studio.

Every other tree has a TRX wrapped around it with clients performing butchered versions of squats, lunges and Gd knows what else...

I'm learning that here, in Tel Aviv, people prefer to pay for the experience of working out... with the hottest, thinnest, most likes and followers on Facebook/Instagram trainer... and you know what, I've come to terms with the fact that I can't change what people want out of their training sessions. But it's what gets me discouraged because it seems like all it takes these days to become a trainer is:

an Instagram account
a massive badonkadonk
sculpted, tanned and greased up muscles

It's intimidating.

It's also infuriating.

But I continue to stand by my beliefs.

I take pride in what I know and continue to learn to benefit and relay to my clients:

I UNAPOLOGETICALLY insist that women strive to be MORE, not less. We are more than a damn number on a scale. We are allowed to take up space. Be proud to have muscles. Be curvy. Have thighs that touch. Skin that wiggles. A stomach with padding. Stretch marks. Wear a size 8, 10, 12...

For fxcks sake! These damn numbers don't define who we are!

And I remain AUTHENTIC with who I am and what I believe in - which is: