Sometimes you just feel... invisible? Like, in a way that’s supposed to be good, you know? But it just ends up making you feel worse. Like when you’re trying really hard to blend in, almost too hard, and then you just disappear, and nobody even notices. That’s what it feels like for me at the gym, I guess. It’s so STUPID. Like, I KNOW it’s stupid. But it’s been bugging me for, like, months now. You know that feeling when you have to go to a meeting, and you’re totally unprepared, so you just try to look busy on your laptop and hope nobody asks you anything? It’s kind of like that, but with my body. Every time I walk into the campus gym, I swear I can feel everyone looking at me. Even though they’re probably not. Like, they’re probably just focused on their own thing, lifting a ridiculous amount of weight, or running like a gazelle. But in my head, I’m just this... twig. This really long, thin twig trying to look like a tree. So, I have this collection of oversized hoodies. Like, ridiculously oversized. The kind where the sleeves go past your fingertips, and the bottom hem nearly hits your knees. Black, grey, dark blue. Nothing that draws attention. I wear one every single time I go. It’s like my armor, you know? My, “Don’t look at my arms, they’re definitely not a disappointment” armor. Because even though I’m there to, like, *develop* my arms, I can’t stand the thought of anyone seeing them while they’re still... like this. And it’s not even like I don’t try. I really do. I do all the exercises. The bicep curls, the tricep extensions, all of it. But then I’ll see some guy, like, two machines over, and he’s doing the same thing, and his arms are just... HUGE. Like, they look like they belong in a cartoon. And mine are just... there. Doing their best. But it’s not enough. It never feels like enough. And then I get this really stupid voice in my head that’s like, “What’s the POINT, man? You’re just going to look like this forever.” Last week, something happened that just... cemented it, I guess. I was doing bicep curls, and I had a decent amount of weight on the bar, like, for me. And this guy, he must have been a senior, or maybe even graduated, but he had that athletic department hoodie on, you know? He walked past, and I accidentally, like, caught his eye. And he just... looked at my arms. Just for a second. But it felt like FOREVER. And then he gave this almost imperceptible shrug, like, a really quick, subtle one, and kept walking. But in my head, it was like, “Yeah, kid, nice try, but you’re not even CLOSE.” And I know, I KNOW, that’s probably not what he meant. He was probably just, like, looking. Or thinking about what he wanted for lunch. But it just felt so... personal. Like a performance review where you get a “meets expectations” when you were REALLY hoping for a “exceeds.” And then you just sit there wondering what you could have done differently. What more you could have added to the report. It’s just... exhausting, you know? Always feeling like you’re trying to hide something, even when you’re supposed to be building it up. Like, I want to be confident enough to just wear a t-shirt and not feel like everyone’s silently judging my lack of… bulk. But then I see those guys, and it’s just this immediate, crushing wave of “Nope. Not yet. Not even close.” And then the hoodie just feels heavier. Like it’s not protecting me, but just... weighing me down. Sometimes I think about just, like, not going. But then I feel like a failure, you know? Like I’m giving up. So I go. I put on the biggest, baggiest hoodie I own, and I go. And I lift. And I try not to look at anyone else. But it’s always there. This weird, stupid, self-conscious voice in my head, just constantly reminding me that I’m not... quite there yet. And probably never will be. It’s like being in a meeting where everyone else is talking about their amazing sales numbers, and you’re just trying to make sure your PowerPoint presentation isn’t glitching. You’re there, you’re present, but you’re just... trying to survive. To not stick out. To not be the topic of conversation for all the wrong reasons. And sometimes, you just wish you could fast forward to the part where you’re the one giving the confident, successful presentation. Without the hoodie.