So I, the workout noob in question, received the great privilege to tag along with some experienced workout guys and learn from their techniques. Let's call them The Workout Pros.

I think I was somewhat wrong when I thought that this would be a great idea. It soon became clear that my initial misgivings were not so baseless.

When I initially noob-ed around alone, at least no one was actuallywatching me. I would tell myself that it was just me feeling embarrassed for myself, and that no one was judging me because, you know, people have better things to do. Like do their own workouts.

However, now being accompanied by people who specifically intended to show me the ropes, I pretty much had no choice but to be watched, and bear the burn of a superior's gaze.

Oh, the self-consciousness that ensued.

And when The Workout Pros demonstrated certain techniques, I mean ... I had to watch in order to understand, right? But that was so weird because I was basically just staring at their muscles— and my "learning" just felt very ... invasive. I couldn't help but feel as if ogling blatantly meant I was objectifying him or something! So many questions I never found myself asking when I exercised before now ran through my head. Like ... do I stare directly at him? Do I watch the weight? How often do I look back and forth? Or should I watch from the mirror's reflection? (Also, what's wrong with my brain?!)

And when a friend of said Pros' showed up and for some odd reason decided he needed to sit and chill for a while near where we were working out, I flubbed the forearm curl things (I'm not going to pretend I know all the terminology), and yeah, I saw that smirk. (I see you! I know you're judging me! I know you're laughing!)

Then came the insidious thoughts, like, "Oh, I bet these people are thinking, 'That girl is such a noob. Those poor guys, trying to teach her how to lift — wait, are those five-pound weights?!'"

(Yes, my consciousness works against me most of the time.)

Obviously, when working out with a higher-up, my awareness of my weakness increased tenfold. At one point, during the isolation curls (I don't know what it's actually called; please don't make me try harder than I have to), The Workout Pros tried to make me go up a weight thing, and ... yeah, that didn't go well. I could not even manage to lift the thing.

It was sad.

But wait (there's more!) — don't you run off thinking that I am ungrateful, hopeless, and entirely self-pitying.

There are great things that come with hanging out with Workout Pros or just having someone slightly more capable than you to keep you accountable. Now I know what that triangular seat thing is, and now I know where some of the weights are! I know where the towels are (yay) and in a sense, I, oddly enough, feel less stupid overall when exercising. One noob makes a workout session torture, essentially; two noobs make the escapade hilarious and mutually embarrassing so that the humiliation sort of gets cancelled out in the process; but one noob and one pro make for an informative and somewhat reassuring experience. It might seem paradoxical in context with my crippling insecurity showcased above, but it's overall a lot better to work out with Workout Pros than alone.

Indeed it's embarrassing having someone witness the absolute degradation of my alarming weakness, but it's also pretty cool to work out side by side with people who clearly know what the heck they're doing.