Women don't have a monopoly on body
image issues. I'm a guy and they've plagued me for years (though, to
be fair, I'm not exactly “Mr. Testosterone”. I think I may have
accidentally watched a football game once while I was distracted, and
hard liquor gives me heartburn).
To say I've struggled with my weight
over the years would be like saying that Jeffrey Dahmer had unique
views on what constituted quality dinner ingredients. I have one of
those fun little psychological issues that makes me see myself
differently than anyone else. Y'know those women in 60's and 70's sitcoms who would go around
constantly asking their husbands “do I look fat”? Bitch, please. I was doing that in
grade school. I was definitely a little chunky at certain stages as a
kid, which “friends” at school had no problem pointing out (often daily), though to be fair I take great comfort in knowing
that while I “blossomed” into the gorgeous creature I am now,
many of those people have either ballooned to epic proportions, have
miserable home lives and/or failed marriages. Yes, I'm petty, so
that makes me feel good.
Like anyone else I wanted to attain
that media idea of perfection. Rock hard stomach, firm upper body,
and I wouldn't mind being about 4 inches taller. I say the same
things everyone else says: “Oh, I'll start watching what I eat on
Monday”, or “I'll start going to the gym every single day
starting tomorrow”. The problem is waiting until tomorrow while
there's ice cream in the house today. And don't say not to buy it.
That's the kind of subversive talk that gets people killed.
For a brief period from 1992-1996, and
again from 2001-2003 I was relatively thin. I lived the thin
lifestyle and enjoyed all the perks that came with it. Admission to
high end social clubs, my pick of the hot relatives at at cotillions
and quinceañeras
, extra Bed, Bath and Beyond coupons. Y'know... standard issue type
things for us breathtaking individuals.
The thing is, though, my brain has
finally started to come around as I get older. There's a colossal
difference between the “ideal” and the “norm”. Yeah, I have a
few extra pounds. At least my man boobs are firm, though. No undue
jiggling. I eat well (well, in addition to the cookies and ice
cream), and my blood pressure and cholesterol numbers are so perfect I get
“great job” written on my copy of the paperwork, like when you
did really well on a spelling test in 3rd grade. I'm
surprised I don't get a sticker, too.
So, the way I see it, for me at least,
the choices are:
1) Be happy with the level of
gorgeousness I've attained, be glad I'm healthy, and still eat pizza
and cookies (or cookie-topped pizza), or,
2) Worry about what everyone else
thinks, subsist on distilled water, tree bark, and salad, and be
miserable.
One day we're all going to die, get
thrown in a box and eaten by worms (or be burned and have our ashes
scattered over the ocean or kept on a mantle to provide all sorts of
comic possibilities). We only come this way once.
Now, I’m not saying I wouldn't be
happy dropping a few. Also, if you're regularly mistaken for the
Kraken, or you pick your teeth and an entire canned ham falls out,
you may want to reconsider some of your dietary choices, but if
you're healthy, be happy, and stop worrying so much about how you’re
viewed by others, because honestly, people are so wrapped up in their
own lives that they really aren't paying that much attention.
Unless you're ugly... I never had that
problem, though.
