Thursday, February 26, 2015

Body... Ody... Ody... Part Duex

So I have been fighting with my fitness, just like almost everyone else.  I figured I would post year in review results.  Normally I would just post them directly to facebook, but I do not want to deal with people having the ability to flag them as inappropriate.

I think in feb of 2014 when the first set of photos is from, I was probably around 275 lbs. (Pardon the grainy self phone pics.)
  

In feb 2015 I am currently at 247 lbs.
 


The current photos are from an intimates shoot I did with Dan.  http://www.danieljeffreyphotography.com/  I was so nervous to do that shoot.  Taking off my clothing as a guy to expose my body to the judgment of someone else is not something I do lightly.  Dan put me at ease, and was so professional and nonchalant about the whole thing that now I am looking forward to another shoot (probably in the fall).

The changes in my body are almost entirely from lifting heavy weights.  My results are readily apparent with strength increases, and endurance increases, but my body is not dramatically changing shape anymore.  At least not in my eyes. People keep telling me how different I look, but I have a hard time seeing it.

I had been haphazardly monitoring, and adjusting my diet eating habits, but I would always find a reason or an excuse to cheat more than I should.  Statements like... But I am soo good everywhere else that a little sugar in my coffee is fine.  (4 cups of coffee, and 12 tablespoons of sugar later...  Am I really being good at all?) Reward eating is terrible for me.

To be fair to myself... After moving into a house with my new roomie:
I cut out fast food entirely.
I have been bringing my own breakfast, lunches, and snacks (fruit) to work, and mostly making dinner at home.
I have limited my liquor to no more than one night a week.
I will still have a glass of wine occasionally on other nights.
I drink at least a gallon of water a day.

I have tasted success with the gym, thanks in large part to my gym buddy.  That is why I am redoubling my efforts at healthy purposeful eating, and making sure that I am putting the right things in my body.  I do not have the luxury of being lax in what I am using to fuel my body.  My metabolism is like a toddler.  It has no idea what it needs, but will scream loudly for what it wants.  I am shifting into parent mode.  I will consume what I need.  What I want will take a backseat to that.  I still plan on allowing myself treats now and again, but I plan on shifting that to more of a once a month type basis, instead of once a week.

It is hard.

It is really hard.

It is worth it!

Thursday, September 25, 2014

Body... Ody... Ody...

This blog entry is about my body.  There will be photos of me in my underwear.  If that offends you please do not read further.  If that excites you, why haven’t you hit on me yet?

I will also preface this entry with the statement that it is very difficult for me to give myself praise.  It is much easier for me to point out my own faults.  I think that holds true for most of us.

I also think most of us have had many a toxic session while looking at the mirror.  I know, I have beaten myself up with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s a time or two.  I have battled with my weight, and body shape for as long as I can remember.  Really though that should be stated, I have battled with accepting my body for as long as I can remember.  (In fairness and full disclosure etc…  I came to accept my body, long before I put things in motion to change it.)

Anyway, enough of the negative, let’s get onto what I intended to write about.  About 18 months ago, I asked a friend to help teach me how to work out.  We went to dinner and discussed gym habits, and eating habits, and life habits, and all kinds of other stuff.  I told myself, I was going to put all of this new knowledge to use.  I was so excited.  I was going to use that gym membership that had been lying dormant (but still being paid for) again. 

One week passed.  I hadn't had time to go to the gym, because I was busy. 
Two weeks passed.  I still hadn't had time.  Now I was getting mad at myself for wasting my friend’s time.
One month passed.  I just gave up, and figured I would try again later.

Around May of this year (2014), I went to brunch with the same friend I had asked for help.  The topic shifted to health and the gym.  I mentioned my earlier failure, and talked about the fact that I felt lost in the gym, because I felt like the fat kid that didn’t belong there.  I felt like everyone would be looking at me and judging me.  I felt like everyone would be wondering what the fuck I was doing there.  I felt like everyone would be cranky that I was just ‘playing’ with the weights and machines that they needed to use. 

I needed support.  I needed a gym buddy that knew what they were doing.  My friend volunteered to help me.  He told me when he worked out, and to just show up and he would work with me.  Again I was stoked!  I was about to change my life.

The next day…  I went into work early to make sure I would be home in time for the gym.  So then I got home early, and promptly fell asleep.  I woke up about 15 minutes after I was already supposed to be at the gym.  I was furious at myself.  I had broken my word.  I was wasting the time of someone that offered to help me.  I had failed yet again.

I sent him a message apologizing, and he responded almost immediately with “I’ll be here for another 45 minutes or so.  Just come join me now.”  I threw my clothes on and was out the door.  Near the end of that week, he asked me to promise him 1 month in the gym, which I gladly did.

We worked out together for about 3 weeks when he mentioned he had found this 12 week program online that he wanted to do.  I was intimidated, but I agreed.  We just finished week 12/12 and are currently taking a week off before we start the program over again.  The 12 week cycle consists of 63 separate gym session.  Of those I missed 3.  So I had a 95% attendance.  (I even did one of the days without him, which filled me with pride.)  

I did not really adjust my food consumption that much, so my results are from just heavy lifting, with the dancing I do as cardio.  

I took pictures at the start (269 pounds), after week 6 (263 pounds), and after week 12 (255 pounds).  Here they are:
Front:

Start
Week 6
Week 12


Profile:
Start
Week 6
Week 12





















Back:
Start
Week 6
Week 12





















Things I have discovered:
  • I am an extrovert, and need to do things with other people.
  • There are days at the gym, when I have NO desire to lift that damned thing even one more time.
  • Pull Ups are from the devil.
  • Most people in the gym are there to do their own thing.  They’re not paying you any mind.  (If anything they are self-centered and unaware that you exist)
  • Personal trainers make their clients do some bizarre shit.

Messages for you, dear reader:
  • If you want to lift weights.  Do it!
  • If you need someone to do it with you, that’s okay.
  • If you can do it on your own… Do it!
  • If you are afraid of what others are thinking about you…  Don’t be.
  • Perseverance works.
  • Weight training is just like learning any other skill.  You have to do homework, and spend time figuring out how and what to do.  You are not expected to be perfect from day 1 (or ever).
I will tell you this:  If I can do this, so can you.  Also, I am starting a new 12 week cycle on Monday Sept 29th.  

If you want the workout that we were using it is here: Buff Dudes 12 Week Plan  





Monday, April 28, 2014

You think that’s bad…?

I understand that we all try to commiserate, and relate to what each other are saying.  I really do.  It is not a bad thing for someone to note that their weight is higher than mine.  It is more that if I ever mention something about my weight to one friend, they bring up that they are heavier than I am, etc.  If I mention anything to a different about my weight he launches into kombucha and ginger, and weird dietary world.  If I mention anything to other friends they try to tell me I am beautiful.  Newsflash…  If I say I am overweight, or heavier than I want to be, I am not saying I am ugly.  I am also not looking for anyone to validate me.

This commiseration is problematic.  It makes me feel like I can not comment on my weight because someone’s is higher than mine, and that if I mention anything about it, I am somehow slighting or insulting them. Which I understand is STUPID.  Also everyone and their cousin has some miracle weight loss plan that is for sure to work.  I know my body, and I know that I eat crap food more often than I should, I drink more often than I should, and I exercise less often than I should.  If I rebalance all of that, my weight goes down.

I get frustrated, because I feel like I can't talk about things without some sort of competition.  I realize the 'competition' I am feeling is really commiseration.  Still it challenges me, because I find myself limiting my topics.

If I chat about my income, I am reminded that I make more than some around me, or that others are paying off student loans, or how hard it must be to not have dual income/no kids/professional wages.

If I chat about dance, I am reminded of other people's hardship with dance, or how they couldn’t possibly do what I do…  I must have been born with special talents.

If I chat about relationship issues, I am reminded that those around me are also single, or have been in sexless relationships, or have a string of abusive relationships, or whatever.

I find myself wondering why the whole world is in competition for who is the biggest victim, and why people try to make others feel bad for any accomplishment, or advantage they have in life. I realize that they are not consciously attempting to do that, but still.

Long story short... I do not want to be guarded with close friends.  I do not want to have to watch what I say around those that I consider my family.  So when I do find myself guarding my words around those I hold dear, it makes me irritable.


“My family dog passed away…”

    ‘You think that’s bad…’

         “Yes, Asshole, I do!”

Friday, January 31, 2014

If you are a 9; don’t tell a 4 to find their ‘Inner Beauty’ unless you are willing to ask them out…

I have seen and read a lot of articles on the topics of relationships, and self worth etc.   The funny thing about them is that they are often times a ‘Model’ writing to a Plain Jane or Average Joe.  It is great to tell PJ or AJ that they are beautiful, and that if they find their self worth then they will be happy, and will find the motivation to attend yoga six times a week, and eat better, and wear that daring date outfit.  If they turn around and ask you on a date, what are you going to say?

On the one hand, there is some truth to that.  When you are in that place of self loathing, you do not feel like you deserve to be loved, or to be improved.  You feel like you are not worth taking up a space in that yoga class.  You feel like the people at the gym will openly harass you for being inadequate.  You feel like that attractive person could not possibly like you, and worse that if you do talk to them they will sneer, and say vicious and vile things (about you) to you.  So you reject yourself in advance for these external influences.  Because at least you will be polite about your rejection… 

If you are anything like me, you are not at all polite about that rejection.  The things I say to myself behind the closed doors of my mind are some of the most reprehensible words that could ever be said from one human to another.  Luckily though, most of us reserve that level of vitriol for our own personal destruction.  We would never dream of saying those things to another person.  Even if the most hideous troglodyte hits on me at the bar, the worst I say, is ‘Thank you, but I’m not interested.”

Now… A lot of this might look like I am just pointing out weight or physical fitness as factors of beauty that I am discussing.  That is not the case.  When we look at another person we assess their everything.  We assess how they put their outfit together, how they applied (or didn’t) their makeup, how they entered the venue, and how they move through it, and interact with it.  Granted, much of this is body language driven, as opposed to conscious observation.  Regardless, someone can be sublimely physically attractive, and then you see they are a total douche to the waiter…  Alternately, AJ or PJ can lightly touch your arm to grab your attention and send shivers down your spine.

What is the difference between cute and pretty?

What is the difference between pretty and sexy?

What is the difference between sexy and sultry?

The answer to all of these is style and demeanor.  Luckily we control both of these things, as they pertain to our lives.  We choose what we are putting on our body, and how we are presenting it to the world.  I’m not saying you should be wearing designer labels, and expensive clothing, or that you should always be dressed to the nines…  I’m saying… if you have an article of clothing that makes you feel bad about yourself… Throw it the fuck away… If you want to feel bad about yourself, you do not need an uppity dishrag helping you to do so.  Have your hair done the way you want it done.  Wear clothing that suits your shape, and your body.  Get that piercing or tattoo, you are afraid people will judge you for.  Let me say… you are judging yourself for it way more than anyone else will.  You will find that when you are truly happy in your own skin/look, that you will radiate a confidence that is beyond reproach.  People will not question your choices, because they will fit the whole package.  What they will see is you.  Some may not like it.  That is okay.  There are WAY too many people on this earth to be concerned with those opinions.

This leads me to my last little bit of ramble.  A very wise person once told me that if you make eye contact with someone twice, in a short period of time, there is a meaningful interaction to be had there.  Three times… there is a connection.  So I challenge you…

If you find someone attractive… talk to them.  Say hello.

It sounds so simple… Because it is!

Friday, April 19, 2013

Faggotry: Why do gay men make it difficult to be a gay man...


Everyone likes to look at beautiful things.  There is nothing wrong with that.  In gay society beauty seems a prerequisite.  But much like everything else, when excess exists, it can be quite a bane.  This concept is so ingrained that it is mentally debilitating to those that do not place themselves in the mold of beauty.  Those who do not think of themselves as beautiful, have quite the hurdle to jump.
 
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. There are so many forms that people find attractive. Even under those headings are many subheadings. For instance, I have a friend that likes bears… but not all bears… just the muscle bears, otters, and polar bears. I have other friends that like daddies, or chubs, or twinks. To each; their own! It is often hard to remember this when talking to our friends, and our friend says ohhh he is hot, and we look over and think… ummm not at all. We all have very different tastes. Can’t we agree to let people be attracted to what they want, even if we don’t share their opinion? Do we have to voice our opinion that their taste does not match our own? Really our friends think they know what we are attracted to already.
Diagram of common gay 'types'
  
We as gay men denigrate ourselves.  What sense does this make?  We denounce ourselves.  We have our own diction, Twink, Bear, Bottom, Daddy, Hawk.  These are all terms that I have heard used both positively and quite negatively.  These terms have been used with such disdain at times that I cringe.  They are just words, but they are empowered by their speaker.  Any of them can be praise, description, or insult given the tone, and general usage. 
 I do not understand why we as a community try to make others of our community feel bad about their personal views / lifestyle.  I would think we would be open to all lifestyles.  Instead I see songs like “This boy is a bottom” (which I do not condone, so I will not post a link to) or hear people talking about those two went home together, but they are both bottoms, so you know it was just angry scissoring.  Of course... then I imagine two men acting like angry cats in heat, spluttering, and aggressively rubbing their naked asses on one another, while growling, and neither being satisfied.  I am faced with such prejudice each time I turn around.  I know several gay racists, gynephobes, heterophobes, Republican-phobes, Christian-phobes, etc…  It just goes on and on.
When you take the stereotypical competitive aspect of men, and blend it with the stereotypical cattiness of women, you get a heinous thing indeed.  You get a stereotypical gay man.  When he sees competition for his prospective target one of two things happens.  He judges himself inferior to the competition and bows out of the contest, not necessarily gracefully.  Or he decides to ensure that this upstart will not win at any cost. 
Claws are sharpened, teeth are bared, and no holds are barred.  On one hand, it is more civilized than a physical confrontation, but the fact that it is filled with subversive commentary makes it far worse.  Rather than physically proving dominance, attacks are made at the psyche of the competition.  We all know emotional scars take much longer to heal.  It seems that the goal is to get the competition to believe that he is inferior and back off, as opposed to getting the target to believe that you are the superior choice.  It is a lot easier to make your competitor feel bad about them self, than it is to make your target see how great you are.  Again, I am not free of this activity.  I have often caught myself critiquing other people in order to feel superior. 
How can we turn this around?  How can we lift each other up, and be stronger as a community?  How can we support our brethren in their life choices while maintaining the integrity of our own?  How can we break through the stereotypes, and be a people?  How can we break the shame cycles, and cycles of abuse?

Thursday, April 4, 2013

Guilting the Lily


Guilt is a cognitive or an emotional experience that occurs when a person realizes or believes—accurately or not—that he or she has compromised his or her own standards of conduct or has violated a moral standard, and bears significant responsibility for that violation.
 Things that make us feel guilt:
  • Lying
  • Flaking (Though apparently Seattleites are naturally immune to this one)
  • Our Bodies
  • Health
  • Wealth or lack there of
  • Family
  • Friends
  • Privilege
  • Race
  • Gender
  • Other
Each of these things at one point or another has caused those pangs of guilt to rise up in me.  Sometimes I quell those pangs with defiance and anger, and sometimes the pangs get to hang out for a while until something shiny distracts me.
 It is such an odd sensation when you are talking to someone and all of a sudden you realize that you are feeling guilty for something that you have not intentionally done.  Typically this is unintentional on the part of the other party as well.  Yet here you are feeling guilty for being born a certain way, or for having a loving family, or for having a stable job.  Usually this passes.  Sometimes it doesn’t and you grow to resent this person that always arouses feelings of guilt for being who you are.
 Other times we earn our guilt.  We lie to a friend about a prior engagement when really it is something we would rather do.  We assume that our little white lie (why’s it gotta be a white thing?) will somehow hurt their feelings less than the truth.  Then all of a sudden they are behind you in line at the bar…  Your stomach sinks…  You want to hide…  Instead you offer to buy them a drink (cursing under your breath that it is one less that you can have that night, because now you have to pay for one for them, and really why did they have to schedule their fucking birthday on the same night as the underwear party that you HAD to go to, and even though you could have made it to their dinner and still had plenty of time to make it to the underwear party, you didn’t want to have a heavy dinner and then run around half nekkid, so it is their fault that you had to lie to them anyway…) to help assuage your guilt.
 Not only do we have the pleasure of dealing with our own guilt… We also like to share guilt.  This usually takes the form of shaming people.
 
  • Can you believe her?  She has no shame.
  • He just shamelessly cruised that guy.
We make these statements judgmentally. Why?
Why should we have shame when it comes to attraction.  Really it only gets in our way, and why is it there?  What purpose does it serve?  Is there something wrong with being interested or attracted?
Of course there isn't. But there is a self-imposed sense of propriety that is a convenient mask for guilt. The guilt associated with sex and sexuality.
What is wrong with expressing interest... With showing desire? Nothing!
I leave my shame at home.  Really there was no room for it in my outfits.
“Funny thing about guilt: There's nothing so bad that you can't add a little guilt to it and make it worse; and there's nothing so good you can't add guilt to it and make it better.”
- Latter Days
 
As Latter Days eloquently reminds us… Guilt isn’t always bad.  I mean there is always Guilty Pleasures.  That glorious feeling you get when you are doing something wrong that is oh so right.  You know what I am talking about
  • Public Sex
  • Free Balling/Lipping
  • Telling children that Santa isn’t real.
  • Eating a glob of mayo out of the jar with your finger.
  • Reading the Missed Connections on Craigslist
I mean…  It is awesome to waste an afternoon at home even though you should be productive.  It is even better to do it in your underwear…
while eating a pizza…
and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s…
            and sexting an ex that you no longer care about…
                        and listening to Call Me Maybe
or your Spice Girls album.
I had a galfriend while I was in the Navy that would always wear sexy lingerie under her uniforms.  It helped her feel like a woman, and also it felt a little naughty to her.  I also had a guyfriend that wore panties under his boxers in the navy.  I always kept my toenails painted in uniform.  I still do, but it is much less of a statement now.
These little acts of social defiance are all guilty pleasures.  Taking things we are supposed to feel bad about, and turning them into a thing of joy.  Each of these is a personal victory over the human condition, and a step in the right direction toward true self acceptance, and love.
What about you?  What are your guilty pleasures?  Leave me a comment and let me know.

Wednesday, April 3, 2013

Nothing Tastes as Good as Skinny Feels…

This is one of the most disgusting phrases I have ever heard.  I once heard a mother say this to her daughter.  I also have friends who have told me their parents told them this.  On the rational side of my mind, I know that some of these parents are trying to protect their children from the cruelties of a fat-shaming society.  I get that.  Other parents are just participating in the fat-shaming model.  I don’t get that.

I was very lucky.  My mother was amazing, something I often forget to tell her, and as such I hope she reads this entry.  She accepted me.  She instilled in me the tools that she felt I would need to make it through life, and then let me figure out how best I could use them.

In my early 20’s I was living in San Diego.  The vibe I got there was that if you were not size 2, blonde, hairless, masculine and tan; then you were not worth shit.  Well, I was a bulky, brunette, hairy, sassy, pale guy.  I allowed the culture to make me feel like I was a beast.  I felt undesirable and unlovable.  More so, I felt like I was unworthy of desire or love.  When someone would flirt with me, I thought it was some sort of cruel joke, and that it would end up as a scene from Carrie, with a bucket of pigs blood dropping from the rafters.  I did the best I could to bury all of those feelings, and hold my head high.

Then I decided to make a change.  I hired a personal trainer 4 days a week (at 50$ a session). I took supplements, vitamins, and meal replacement shakes.  I ate a chicken boob, and a cup of spinach leaves for lunch and dinner.  I went tanning 3 times a week.  I dyed my hair blonde.  I got waxed every 3 weeks on the dot.  I did all of this to feel accepted.  It didn’t work.

Eventually, I let all of that slip away, and just stopped trying to fit in.  I was much happier, but still felt like I was somehow less than human.

I moved to Seattle in September of 2006, and my story takes a little turn here.  The average build in Seattle and the PNW in general is a little heavier than southern California.  People up here have facial hair, and body hair.  There is no sun up here, so most of us are pale.  I remember being at a bar with my dear friend JJ, and some guy walked by me and woofed at me.  I was appalled.  JJ calmed me and explained that it was the way some people appreciate sexiness.  I was confused by these strange new customs.  Moreover I was confused that someone thought I was attractive.

I joined the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence in August of 2008.  I was still ridiculously body conscious and shy.  I would not leave the house without being in an undershirt and an over shirt.  My sponsor sister Isabella Ringing and my big sister Edith Moorecock were instrumental in breaking down my barriers here.  They were both very racy in their dress, which I admire.  They kept telling me to raise my hemline.  My response was that no one wants to see that.  Isabella told me that I have no right to decide what other people want to see.  Brilliant! 

It was still much later at Sister Karma Za Betch’s (may she rest in peace) novice project that I finally broke through my fear of self.  I wore a fishnet shirt, and fishnet pair of square cut underwear with thigh high boots.  I was terrified.  TERRIFIED! 

I hid it well and strode with pride.  I passed this pair of guys who were standing off by a wall.  One of them said ‘Wow, I didn’t need to see that.’  I was mortified, but anger took over.  I turned on my heel, and in Novice Sister regalia addressed him directly.  I said “Well then, maybe you should avert your eyes.  And where in the fuck do you get off trying to make someone feel bad about their body?  The day you have the confidence in your body to walk around in the outfit I am wearing, come talk to me.  Until then, keep your snide comments to yourself.”  I then turned on my heel and walked away.

From that point on I have made it a point to dress risqué as a Sister.  I still had body issues, but I would not let them show.  I was proudly showing off my body to let other people know it was okay to show off theirs.  It was my hope that my confidence would inspire others to be more confident in their own skin.

Since then, I have also done burlesque here and there to great appreciation, and I started studying bellydancing.  In those costumes I reveal proudly my most troubling of areas, and I flaunt, shake, jiggle, shimmy and shiver it.

I still do not have the body that I want, and I am working on that for myself.  However, I no longer feel like a beast.  I feel like an empowered person.  I am utterly comfortable in my skin.  I still sometimes have the crazy voice chime in when people are hitting on me, but it is very quiet and seldom actually impacts my life.  Maybe someday I will allow someone to love me.  One step at a time.