I have always been a skinny guy. My doctor once told me that I have the fastest metabolism he has ever seen. I am incapable of counting the number of times I’ve been called “a twig” or “chicken legs.” I have yet to find a pair of pants that truly fits me (though that may be because I have a donk), and for me, “lanky” is not just an adjective, it is a way of life.
I most definitely have a love-hate relationship with my body. I am completely comfortable walking around in my underwear, no one can rock a pair of Jordans like I do and I walk into a club the only way I know how to… flawlessly. Yet a part of me, the part that contains my insecurities, sees my body differently. This part of my psyche is dissatisfied with my body; it demands that I change my figure. It is tired of being the skinny boy, an identity that has shaped and defined me for my entire life.
When I think about guys I am usually physically attracted to, I would say that I have a type. Though this type is not a hard rule, and though many who I find attractive do not fit into this mold, I frequently go for the more athletic, buff guys. As my friends can attest, muscular guys make me swoon (loudly) on a daily basis. In many ways, because of my sexuality, this attraction has a direct correlation to my body image.
Gay culture posits an enormous pressure to become attractive for other men. Straight guys often have body image issues of their own; however, straight guys don’t necessarily ever feel this unique type of pressure. No matter how attractive he may find a woman, for the most part, a straight guy will not desire to emulate for himself or for his body those traits that make the woman attractive to him. Though not every man who is attracted to other men feels this pressure, the basic logic is pretty sound: If one is usually physically attracted to a certain type of person (i.e. muscular guy), and that type of person falls within one’s own gender identity, it makes sense that one would desire to emulate that body type.
Senior year of high school was the first time I stepped foot in a gym. I was terrified. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing, and as my friend Danielle took me around the gym and showed me different machines, I almost laughed at how ridiculous I felt. Though I went somewhat irregularly last year, it wasn’t until this past summer that I started going to the gym more frequently. I began to see the gym less as something alien and more as a real opportunity. I had never been extremely dissatisfied with my body image before; yet, the gym became a vehicle to mold my own body to what I find attractive and to fulfill the intense desire to become muscular that was lingering in my subconscious but had never fully emerged. The skinny identity that I thought would always remain with me did not seem as permanent and unchanging as it once did.
Reflecting on this process of molding my body, I have come to realize where much of my negative body image comes from. In my fervent quest to become muscular, I have seen the various ways in which I have not appreciated and still do not appreciate the skinny body that I already inhabit. In the face of a gay culture that celebrates men with washboard abs who live every free moment of their lives in the gym, it has been easy for me to succumb to insecurity and to see my body as wrong, negative and something that should not be celebrated. This tendency is apparent in the way in the guilt I often feel when I cannot make it to the gym. It is apparent when I put way too much pressure on myself to finish that one last bite of grilled chicken. It is apparent when I look in the mirror and feel that my body is inadequate.
Yet, by making the way in which I do not appreciate and love my body enough so blatantly obvious, this process has also allowed me to grow. There is nothing wrong with having fitness goals as the determination, commitment and ultimate satisfaction that I have learned from my fitness journey so far are invaluable. Yet, the place from which I come when going through this process of achieving “gains” is crucial: It must be from a love of self and a love of body. I must continually remind myself to appreciate and adore the body, my current body, that allows me to jump around and make a scene wherever I go, that aids me in expressing my thoughts and my emotions, that brings awkward, lanky dance moves to a whole new level entirely. Skinny, muscular or somewhere in between, my body rocks simply because it is mine. Regardless of anything, I am a stud muffin, and I will never allow myself to forget it.
Patrick Bylis is a sophomore in the College. Life Unlabeled appears every other Friday.
