Whilst I do enjoy a bit of RuPaul’s music, and “Call Me Mother” is perhaps the best in a long time, this is not about that. Nor is it about Drag Race or Dela as Julie Andrews. Nah, it’s not about any of that. It’s about body image, so if you’re bored of me yacking on about it…come back next week.
I always profess that I am about to embark on a healthy living stint, that never really comes to anything because I am less motivated to sit and plan things, and y’know, I work twelve hour days and find it hard to fit all this kind of fitness stuff in. A colleague, who was once a personal trainer, says the same, our fitness is lacking because we just don’t have the time to dedicate to it. You could be saying now “but Ted, you get days off” and you’re right, I could probably set aside an hour or two to fitness on those days, but there is this thing called life, keeping up social relationships and my sanity, and I’m sorry but that takes up a lot of my time on my days off.
Recently I’ve been plagued by anxiety more than anything, so keeping my head above water with that has been a focus for days off. Plus, I’ve become addicted to The Sims 4, so I tend to end up playing that for one reason or another (escapism, that’s the only reason). So with my lacking motivation to be “fit” and my acceptance that my body is “fat”, healthy living is no longer a promise I make to myself.
Sure, I’d like to be a bit healthier like I was, I’d like to not have such a belly on me, but guess what? I just accept it. I accept that my body is like this, that I have a belly, that I’m probably the heaviest I’ve ever been, but I don’t particularly feel ashamed of it. I have clothes that fit, I have clothes I enjoy to wear, and whilst many people will say you can’t look good in clothes whilst being fat, well fuck you, because you can.
There’s always that equation that someone put out into the world that fat = unattractive, but that’s wrong. It’s wrong because different people find different things attractive. Does it matter if you’re attractive to everyone? Nope. Does personality count? Well I hope not because mine is also often shockingly bad. It just comes down to two individuals. Even then, you don’t need the second. If you can see your own beauty, that’s what matters. If you can see it, then you can show it to the world, and that’s all that matters.
My weight gain has been down to poor diet and a complete lack of physical activity to the levels I once used to do it. Sometimes I regret it, but other times I don’t. I got bored. I got bored of standing there on a cross trainer, I got bored of lifting weights, or doing yoga, or trying to run, or going out on my bike. That isn’t who I really am – I didn’t grow up like that (except for maybe going out on my bike because I lived in a small village growing up and there was plenty of opportunity to go out safely). Who I am, is the guy who would rather sit and read at home whilst chowing down on some chocolate, after ordering in a kebab.
If and when I decide to start doing any physical exercise again, it will be completely on my terms. It will be because I want to do it, and it probably won’t be every day. They say that weight-loss is diet and exercise and it is, but I just don’t see the point. I am still happy – albeit it, sometimes painfully anxious – and isn’t that the key to a good life? The happy bit, not the anxiety.