My Bout With The Gut

That’s right, dear readers. I have a gut.

Well, it’s a slight gut, and so I try to use the term very loosely. I can look down and see my feet just fine with no revolting-looking mass of fat obscuring the view. The funny thing is that I was skinny when was much younger, and so while growing up, even at my physical peak, I always had some “baby fat” around my stomach. At the time I didn’t give it much thought. When I became a teenager, however, that “baby fat” grew up into real fat.

I could easily get rid of the gut if I wanted to. It’s just that I never had a real issue with it. If anything, I’ve always been more embarrassed about my various moles and scattered strains of hair on my back than I have been about my handles of love. I can only suspect that my hair and slightly beige completion have somehow made my gut more aesthetically tolerable than your typical pale, pasty, beer gut variety. Never felt insecure about wearing tight T-shirts around the house; never had any apprehensions about going to the beach and walking around topless. Don’t get me wrong: I wouldn’t mind having a six-pack (what sane man wouldn’t), but I refuse to dedicate the time and work to get it; I’d rather use that energy for something else. That’s the choice I’ve made and I’m sticking to it: slight gut and all.

I just wish others would share the same comfort about my body as I do.

“Why don’t you lose some weight?” my father would constantly chime. “You could easily lose twenty pounds.” Well, we can all easily lose twenty pounds; it just becomes a question of aesthetics at that point, doesn’t it? I’m sure Calista Flockhart could easily lose twenty pounds, but who would want to see that? And at that point, wouldn’t it also be a question of convenience? I’d imagine it would be mighty hard to find dresses in a size -2.

“There’s high cholesterol and heart disease in our family,” my father would continue. “You need to eat better and start going to the gym.”

Have you ever been at a gym? You wanna talk about a depressing-ass sight? I’ve been to funerals more jovial. You walk into a gym, and you see a room of people who look absolutely miserable, sweating, panting, grimacing – like they’re getting rapped by an invisible man. And then to top it off, the space is lined by mirrors, so that you have the pleasure of witnessing these poor bastards torturing themselves through every conceivable (and unpleasant) angle.

And if my father’s incessant pestering wasn’t enough, I have friends who will at times also suggest the same nonsense. “You know you have broad shoulders, Frank. Imagine if you worked out?” What kind of logic is that? Are my shoulders disproportionately broad for my frame? What am I, the Hunchback of Notre Dame? The first draft of a Picasso painting?

Despite my deaf ear on the subject, the comments and suggestions continue and continue to no end. Especially from my father, who gives Jewish mothers a run for their money in the neurotic department. Due to my family history, not to mention my little brush with high cholesterol (I took Lipitor for a year until I altered my eating habits and lost some weight), my father still worries about my state of health, and as far as he’s concerned, a gut isn’t healthy.

But are my father’s concerns something that is systematic of a society that values skinny and lean, or is that a logic that is somewhat justified? (The simpleton in me likes to think he’s just being too damn neurotic) I mean, having a gut may not be ideal, but then again, simply having a little excess fat in certain places doesn’t automatically mean you have a foot in the grave, either. With all this flux and chaos about what is considered “acceptable” “healthy” and “attractive,” I don’t know how women can deal with these image issues so regularly without occasionally stabbing a motherfucker.

I know plenty of people – of both genders – that live perfectly healthy lives despite being a bit on the corpulent side. It’s become painfully obvious how the mainstream media has shaped our perception of not only what the image of beauty is, but what the image of health is as well.

I don’t believe my gut has kept me from certain pleasures (especially food, homemakers see my corpulent frame and offer me food like I was an Ethiopian), nor has it kept me from achieving my goals (assuming my goals didn’t involve being a Chippendale dancer). But to put things in perspective: the current shape of my body hasn’t inhibited me in any way. My gut hasn’t kept me from the social interactions I find enjoyable and enriching. My health (at the moment) allows me to eat what I want and do what I want (within moderation) without having to be concerned about how it will affect my physical image. The only image one should be preoccupied about is self-image.

As anyone can tell you, the concept of image and self-image can at times be incredibly contradictory. A woman with a fantastic body can still somehow convince herself she’s fat as a cow, while a tubby college frat guy can believe he’s the ultimate chick magnet because he’s a dead-ringer for Russell Crowe – or at least, Russell Crowe’s fat, slovenly younger brother with a drinking problem.

The trick is to have both image and self-image coalesce into one all-encompassing, conceptual bubble. And when that happens, a symbiotic relationship between the two concepts occurs where they both feed off each other. A person with a great self-image will ultimately exude an exceptional image of themselves to those around: If you think you’re visually pleasant, then your attitude will reflect that, and soon people will take a cue from those vibes and will therefore be more inclined to accept you as a visually pleasant (I daresay sexy and attractive) person, despite whatever minor physical imperfections you may have (how many times have you heard that sexiness is more about attitude rather than looks, hmm?)

I have the love of support of friends, family, and (occasionally) the opposite sex, not to mention the ability to entertain my every intellectual and sensual whim. Now you gotta ask yourself: is my body, in its current state, denying me anything?