When I was a child, physical critiques rarely affected me, aside from the occasional remark from my mom, like “You’re looking too skinny,” as she prepared meals. My adolescent insecurities didn’t stem from body image or a desire to “look” a certain way. Instead, I struggled with fitting in, constantly worrying about how to act in order to be liked. As you can probably imagine, despite my efforts for acceptance, rejection followed me everywhere.
I longed to be the cool kid but soon discovered I was destined to be the “weird” one. Living with ADHD made it nearly impossible to keep my enthusiasm and energy in check. I tried everything to be liked and often wished for a rescue from my feelings of isolation. It would take years for me to find that one thing that would change my life.
During high school, with the encouragement of others, I began to see myself as weak and timid. This new insecurity arose when I noticed how the athletes had muscles and garnered all the attention. I confronted the harsh truth: I could never excel at sports. I started to dislike my body, and my classmates only intensified this self-loathing. I had grown long limbs, and my metabolism was out of control, burning through everything I consumed.
In the summer of 1988, I moved to a new city, got a job, and hoped this change would bring positive outcomes. Like many young adults, I yearned for recognition in a world that places too much importance on appearances. I became self-conscious and dreaded taking my shirt off in public for fear of judgment. It was all too easy to withdraw from social situations, convinced that I wasn’t attractive enough or deserving of others’ attention.
One evening, after a typical workday, I walked home and nearly stumbled when a figure stepped in front of me. This “figure” was the fittest man I had ever seen. As I shook his hand, my body trembled, and I felt faint. At that moment, I realized I wanted to possess that incredible strength and physique.
Our perceptions of ourselves are often misguided. If only we could step back and appreciate what we can achieve instead of fixating on how we feel or look, our motivation would be healthier. Unfortunately, I chose to change my body rather than my mindset, determined to whip it into shape at any cost. So, I joined a gym.
Joining a gym was more daunting than four years of high school combined. Everyone on the gym floor seemed to be staring as I walked past the front desk, and I almost turned around and fled. Eventually, I gathered the courage to reach the locker room. Taking a deep breath, I found a locker and prepared for my first workout. Stupidly, I thought, “What do I do now?” After pacing the gym floor for what felt like hours, feeling like a fish out of water, I decided to settle on a treadmill facing the gym floor. This became my safe haven for weeks, serving as my observation perch. Each day, I would identify the most muscular guys and take notes on their routines. Once my “test subjects” finished their workouts, I would take my notepad onto the gym floor and, to the best of my ability, mimic everything they did, right down to their grunts.
Little did I know I had it all wrong. I went to the gym hoping to change my body to quell my insecurities, but I failed. It would take another 20 years for me to realize that it wasn’t the muscles that would change how I felt; I first needed to alter my perspective before transforming my body.
In 2016, following the Summer Olympic Games in Rio, I had an “aha!” moment. My students and I debated which Olympic athletes had the best physiques. I argued for the gymnasts, while others favored the swimmers. In that moment, I realized that Olympic training had it right! The answer was so obvious! How had I missed it all these years?
It’s simple when you think about it. When a child shows promise in a skill, their parents or caregivers typically encourage them to pursue a sport or activity where they can excel. Kids begin intense training to become Olympic gold medalists with the goal of winning, not merely to look good. They train and fail repeatedly, striving to reach their personal best. Years later, after relentless training, they develop impressive physiques and the confidence to match.
Over the years, I’ve acquired helpful tools to uncover the root causes of my insecurities. Instead of panicking and losing my composure, I can now identify triggers and adjust my attitude. I often joke that during a full moon, my childhood fear of rejection can resurface and cause me to regress. I’ve learned that shifting my perspective on what defines health is crucial. If we continue to join gyms solely to look good instead of striving for greatness, we will always fall short.
That said, I’m less inclined to read articles on self-love and avoid topics that delve into the metaphysical. Instead, I prefer scientific articles, which I find enlightening. I’ve come to understand that “health” is more than just perception; it’s about approach.
If you focus on being your best and striving for your personal “gold medal,” you will be rewarded with a physique that reflects your confidence.
As always, thank you for reading my latest blog. I greatly appreciate your feedback on this topic and on any future or past subjects.