Two Turns from Zero

by Stacey Griffith

  And you don’t have to be young like most of the fitness models to have flex appeal. It’s a state of mind and muscles. (Jack LaLanne sure had it up until the end!) Kelly Ripa once jokingly quoted me on her show when she said, “For women over forty, the universe is trying to suck the back of your arms into the center of the earth.” Yes, gravity is a bitch, but flex appeal can counteract its effects—if you let it. Kelly isn’t exactly a twenty-year-old; she was born in 1970 but looks better now than she ever has. She is fully at ease in her body and with who she is.

  Some of my friends and students aren’t as body-confident as I am (or as Kelly is!), and sometimes they ask what they should do when they’re feeling vulnerable about their body and have a new lover. I suggest that they get some fabulous lingerie and leave the top on. To light a lot of candles and make their bedroom atmospherically sexy. But you know what? You are almost always going to be judging yourself more harshly than your lover is. The only kind of lover you want to have is one who loves your body for what it is.

  Radiating sexual confidence is what makes you attractive. You will always have the best sex when you can let your inhibitions go and get out of your own way. That is extremely difficult to do if you are worried about someone seeing your cellulite or scars or a little pooch in your belly and judging you. (As for scars, to me they’re like badges of honor, markers in your story, and a reminder of experiences only you have had. They’re like dropping a pin on a place in time—that’s all a scar is.) You have to get out of that cycle of thinking your sexual partner is somehow rating you on their own mental scale of perceived worthiness. And if you’re with someone who’s judging you on any aspect of your body, it’s the wrong person. The quickest way to ruin a relationship is to be critical of sexual performance or any physical characteristics.

  Although some of my students often pull me aside to whisper and confide in me about why they’ve got that special glow—the one that comes not just from regular exercise, but from a thriving and pleasurable sex life, it takes time for others to reach that point. One of the most gratifying things for me to see—and this has happened countless times in my thirty years of teaching, not just with my students but with my friends and acquaintances—is when someone who has retreated into themselves and basically given up on sex and dating then finds the will to get moving. They start working out regularly and effectively. They lose weight, get stronger, feel better in every possible way, and rediscovers the marvel of their body. They start dating again and they start having sex again, and they are much happier.

  My friend Noa is someone who didn’t date for more than a decade; he thought no one would find him attractive because he didn’t find himself attractive due to his weight. We became good friends when we both were living in Los Angeles. He actually asked me, leaning out the window of his car one night at midnight, to help him change his life. I looked at him and said, “Let’s do it.”

  We trained together for about a year, and then I moved to New York. Several years later, he went out to buy some underwear at H&M, and he happened to walk past the opening day of the West Hollywood branch of SoulCycle. He decided to give it a try and signed up for a few classes. Although he had once been fit, he then weighed more than three hundred pounds. He was deeply ashamed of his body, and his doctor had basically told him that he could drop dead of a heart attack at any moment. (For him to even think about leaving the house to go underwear shopping was a big deal.) When he saw the new SoulCycle, he thought he might as well die trying, and once he got on that bike, what kept him going during that first class was, he told me later, remembering how I used to tell him, during our training sessions, “If you are here, you are an athlete! The hard work is getting yourself here, today.”

  Since that day, not only did Noa lose more than one hundred pounds, but he was freed, as he put it, “from the bondage of being my former self.” Even more amazing, he was encouraged to train to become a SoulCycle instructor—and he now teaches at several of the NYC studios. He might call himself an “old dog that did actually learn some new tricks,” but we both agree that his transformation came about because he found his purpose.

  And he also realized that women found him extremely attractive. He told me that what he’d thought was a cliché—that it’s written all over your body when you have physical and emotional confidence—was actually true, and he was living proof.

  So . . . what are you waiting for?

  While I always want people to make the decision to get exercising because it’s so good for them, sometimes it takes an outside event to spur their motivation. I’ve lost track of how many students have told me over the years that their “breakup workout” ended up not only improving their health but healing their broken hearts. This is what happened to Alicia. When her husband, Ben, left her for another woman, she was devastated. Not only because she’d been in love with him, but because his new girlfriend was in phenomenal physical shape, and Ben made sure Alicia knew it. (Don’t get me started on this guy; at least she’s well rid of him!)

  “He used to love my body,” Alicia told me. “Sure, I could have worked out a bit more, but I was strong and healthy and not overweight at all. He loved to caress what he called my sweet, soft arms. And then he started complaining about my ‘out-of-shape arms,’ and before long he was ragging on me about my entire body.”

  Ben was about as shallow as it gets, not just for dumping Alicia in the way he did, but for criticizing her body and no longer appreciating who she was on the inside, where it really counts. So what does this have to do with a better sex life?

  Well, let’s just say that Alicia took that hurt right to the gym, where she worked out with more intensity than she had before. She didn’t care about Ben anymore—she now cared about herself. Over time, I noticed that Alicia was looking better and better. But I’m not just talking about more muscle tone. Her attitude had shifted.

  One day, after class, we started chatting, and she told me she felt like a new woman. When I asked her what she meant, she said, “Well, after I got divorced, I never thought I’d feel good about anything again. When I started dating again, I have to admit I was a bit shocked to find how sexy I felt. I have more sexual confidence now that I’ve never had before.”

  Being in shape is not about sex. Being in shape is all about feeling sexy . . . about feeling so great about yourself that the thought of being seen naked and getting intimate and having sex doesn’t inspire panic or fear. And that’s the best kind of confidence a person can have.

  Moving Meditation for Intimacy

  This is a small and subtle thing to do, but it works as a connection to your intimate self. You can do it anytime and any place you feel the need for an intimate connection. It pulls together all your senses and opens you up to loving the touch of your skin and your innate sensuality. When you are done, you will be ready to embrace any kind of intimate encounter.

  1.Take your thumb and touch your index fingertip, gently, barely feeling your skin, and make tiny soft circles in a clockwise direction. Don’t focus on counting or doing this for a specific amount of time. Keep making the circles until you feel ready to move on.

  2.Repeat with your middle finger, then your ring finger, and then your pinkie.

  3.Open your hand wide and then close it into a loose fist. Hold that moment in your hand.

  4.Repeat with your other hand.

  Now your senses are alert . . . . Stay in touch with this sensation. It is the total secret to staying physically “in touch” with your sensuality.

  PUSHING PAST SHAME

  When it comes to training your heart and opening it up to love, shame is a big one. Getting found out. Being exposed. Feeling like a failure. I mean, we all have things we are ashamed of, that we’d rather crawl into a cave than admit to, so we remain stuck in the layers and moments that once shamed us—even, of course, if we were totally blameless when the shaming happened. If, for example, you grow up in a house where you’re constantly criticized and not allowed to
express your feelings, if you’re told no, no, no, why, why, why all the time, you internalize that terrible feeling that you’re not good enough and never will be. The worst feelings of inadequacy are that you’re not deserving of love and happiness and purpose. You’re ashamed to think you deserve the best. When this happens, you can unwittingly be holding yourself back for fear of failing and repeating the shame, especially when you’re trying to get motivated.

  One of the reasons people are afraid to ask for help is due to shame. Especially if you said you were going to do something important (look for a new job, lose weight, exercise more) and for whatever reasons that something doesn’t happen. You’re ashamed that you weren’t able to succeed. I totally get it, because shame keeps addicts addicted. If you think you’re not worthy because you’re doing something that is bad/illegal/toxic, then it’s easier to stay stuck in the shame and guilt than to go to rehab and kick the habit. It took me many, many years to own up to my shame. And believe me, I am not perfect. There’s still a lot of work I have to do on myself, so you are not alone, my friend!

  I was only able to become as successful when I started to deal with my layers of shame and to acknowledge that this would be an ongoing thing for me. It’s one of those issues I will always have to deal with, even if much of the shame is usually tucked away. For example, I can speak as a former drug addict, but it’s harder for me to identify as an alcoholic due to shame. I come from a long line of alcoholics, and even if most of my friends growing up did, too, it was still something we rarely talked about, and if we did, we did it laughing.

  Doesn’t that self-identification stuff sound a bit nutty? But it’s because I would do drugs before I would do alcohol. Usually it’s the other way around. My buzz of choice came from drugs, not drinks. Drugs were always my go-to for self-medication. I don’t like the feeling of being drunk, so it’s hard for me to identify as an alcoholic, but apparently as part of sobriety you’re supposed to say that you’re an alcoholic if you’re a drug addict. I think maybe I have to tell myself I am an alcoholic. If I don’t, then I run the risk of thinking about having a drink.

  Instead, I’ve convinced myself that I’m allergic to alcohol. I mean, I’m not physically allergic to alcohol, but I am emotionally. Like many drinkers, when I drink I become a different person. It usually took about three and a half drinks for me to morph from being funny, happy, loving, and great company into a total asshole. So that means I’m allergic to drinking. I tell myself that so my brain’s response to someone drinking isn’t to say, “Oh, I wish I could have a drink,” but “If I have a drink, I’m going to feel awful because I’m allergic. Don’t be a fool. It’s toxic. If you have a drink, you’re going to have a bad reaction and you’re going to be sorry. You’re going to feel like complete crap with your stupid hangover. Also, you will lose everything you have ever worked for in your life if you drink. None of that is worth it, so have a Pellegrino and go enjoy yourself.”

  The greatest thing about saying no to drugs and alcohol is the empowerment and self-control it gives you. What you have to steer clear of, however, are the triggers that can bring you right back into that behavior. Believe it or not, sometimes it’s not even the alcohol or the drug that triggers you—it can be a person who makes you feel the same way. Be super sensitive to your surroundings, and don’t let anyone take you down the rabbit hole toward disrespectful behavior, because it can happen.

  Still, shame will rear its unwanted little face when I least expect it, such as in a topic of seemingly benign conversation at a dinner party. Maybe I’ll be at a dinner with a few people who don’t know me well, and they’ll be asking what I want to drink, and I’ll say, “I’ll have a Pellegrino, please.” A savvy host or hostess would then get that drink for me without comment, but some hosts or hostesses are not so savvy. They’ll push it because everyone is drinking (and maybe they’re actually alcoholics who can’t own up to and hate to be around nondrinkers), and then it gets into why can’t I have a drink. That is the moment where the shame hits. When a stranger says, “Oh, come on, Stacey, just have one.” Whenever I hear that, it’s like a vise has gotten a stranglehold on my heart for a brief second. It’s not exactly painful, but it’s awfully uncomfortable. It’s pure shame. And it’s still there, even after all my years of sobriety. It gets easier with every passing year, though, so that’s good!

  SG, circa 1996

  The shame of having been an addict for so long used to make me really fearful in some social situations, because I’ve had so many years of sobriety, and Sober Stacey is who I identify with now. The smart and reliable Stacey who is a fitness instructor who’s never taught a class in New York City with a wicked hangover. My identity used to be Crazy Stacey, Hurricane Stacey, Stacey the life of the party, Stacey the addict who had tons of friends and knew everyone. Stacey who could party and still show up to classes the next day. Stacey who was the woman to call whenever you wanted to have fun. . . .

  So my shame is not fear-based anymore—the fear stemming from people finding out I was an addict and judging me accordingly—but it’s still that piece of me and my life that I wish I didn’t have to have anymore. I mean, it’s part of who I am, but I prefer to identify with people now who feel and behave like I do—with sober intent, with passion, and with a hard look inside themselves.

  It’s hard not to have a crutch like drinking or drugging, especially in the fitness industry where, surprisingly enough, not that many instructors are fully clean and sober. When you grew up drinking and drugging, it’s hard not to drink or smoke pot or have that line of cocaine at a party. Society might pretend otherwise, but there’s tons of drugs everywhere, and for most people, it’s really hard to say no to a glass of wine or other alcohol.

  One of my most deeply shameful moments was during the wrap party for a big event. The hostess was incredibly generous and loved nothing more than giving back, and at this party everyone was so happy and celebrating. She was pouring shots of tequila, and I’m standing there, and she turned to me to give me a shot.

  What flashed into my head at that moment was, Damn it all, Stacey, you want to be a part; you want to be in the club. If I had chosen a night when it would have been a perfect time to fall off the wagon, it would have been that night.

  And then something else flashed into my head—the right answer. So, instead, I said no.

  She didn’t know I had been an addict and was “allergic” to alcohol, and it was certainly not the time or place to tell her, so she, in her generous way, kept trying to hand me the shot. To avoid hurting her feelings, I took it and quickly gave it to someone else. As the party went on, people were actually shocked when they realized I wasn’t drinking. I was having a blast anyway, dancing all over the room all night. (I even ended up dancing on top of the speakers!) It was a fabulous party with fabulous people, and I knew I didn’t need alcohol to make it better. I truly did not need a shot to celebrate our accomplishments. I can celebrate standing right next to you while you do your thing.

  The point is, in our society, alcohol is used for celebrations the way sugar is. After all, what’s a birthday party without a cake? But even though I had a brilliant time at the party, the shame was still nagging at me. I couldn’t tell the hostess the truth that night and buzzkill the moment. Because shame is your deepest secrets about stuff you did that you think makes you a bad person—a person unworthy of love.

  Truth Telling Is the Shame Killer

  How do you push past the shame, allowing you to feel worthy of the love you deserve?

  I learned from my therapist that shame is just you being found out, and when you walk through your life with the shame you become an imposter. To yourself and to everyone else.

  I know all my addiction issues. I understand exactly what each drug made me feel and why I did everything I did. I’ve come to terms with it. I self-medicated with crystal meth because I had ADHD chronic-fatigue and the meth made me feel awake. I was suffering from depression because my brother had died.
I was so sad I started doing a lot of Ecstasy because that was making me happy. My emotions at the time, in response to these drugs, were still authentic.

  All the drugs made my real senses come straight to the edge of my skin. I wasn’t masking any feelings; if anything, I was bringing them up. When you do Ecstasy and meth you talk about anything and everything. I was already a talker, of course, but not about my feelings. I’m actually very shy. I learned from a young age that my family story was something shameful to my peers. I would try to hide the fact that my parents were divorced and I was from a single-parent home. And then when I knew I was gay, I knew that was a secret I had to keep.

  As a result, as you know already, I grew up in lies. I wasn’t ashamed of being gay, but I knew that others saw it as shameful, and I had to lie to protect myself from the cruelty of their homophobia. Since I grew up having to lie about my identity, about being straight or gay, “Oh yeah, this is my boyfriend,” “Oh yeah, these are my parents,” sometimes it’s still my knee-jerk reaction—to tell a white lie. It’s very, very hard to unwind that. Why should I feel ashamed about the lies I had to tell in self-preservation when I was younger?

  But I still do. Because being a liar was easy. I would never have been able to admit that without having been in therapy for the last decade. Do you know how brave it is to tell people that you were a liar? Do you know how hard it is to admit you were a drug addict? How much more open and exposed can you get? I had to push past the shame. I could do it only because I fell in love with a person who believed in me, and loved me the way I was. Having her in my life made me realize that the only way our relationship could work was if I was honest about everything that happened to me. So I did. I killed my shame with the truth.

  Telling the unvarnished truth is like peeling the layers back on the onion of vulnerability. It’s almost impossible to get through your entire day without telling a lie. You know you have to come up with those little white lies because you don’t want to tell your friend that, yes, her little black dress actually does make her look fat, or tell your boss that he’s an incompetent hack with bad breath. You don’t want to hurt your friend’s feelings and you don’t want to get fired. In other words, there’s a difference between the little lies you tell to survive, and the bigger lies you tell yourself.