When you have BDD, you don't like yourself in your BVD's

I got another eye roll today after I made a "chubster" comment about myself. Folks, I want to let y'all in on a little secret- I know that I'm not obese. I do.

Body Dysmorphic Disorder is when you look at yourself in the mirror and you don't like what you see. It isn't technically an "eating" disorder, although they can sometimes hold hand (Me? I love food/love eating and I hate barfing. Capisce?) but when I stand in front of a mirror in my glory, I don't see a well built attractive guy. You become very objective, and hyper critical. I know how I'd like to look, I just don't see it.

Rationale? (Not that it would make a lot of sense, or that there is ANY justification outside the fact that I'm an absolute Loon.)

Maybe it was reading too many comics as a kid. (Seeing those "superhero" physiques) Maybe it was growing up a little on the chunky side. (The truffle shuffle woulda been easy. Kids at my school liked slapping your tummy with a spit-wet open palm) Or my first boy-girl hug when Angie W told me she loved my hair...and my love handles.

Could be the 3 cheeseburgers and a shake from Mickey D's I'd get daily as a young man, or the girlfriends who loved eating out- (Every damn day) Or the young lady who cheated on me with dude she called "The hot guy from Health Class...he's a body builder you know??" That got me a little self consciuous. Granted, I weighed about 40 sandwiches more than I weigh now. Or as recently as about 3 years ago, practicing kata's stripped to the waist in my living room and hearing the old gf roommate laugh at me and say "It's kinda funny how your stomach sticks out in front." Or 2 weeks ago when a buddy came over and saw a picture of me poolside, and said "Wow you look bigger, how many years ago was that?" I said, "It was last month- in Vegas" The picture is now my motivation to stay in shape.

Or maybe, how my raven haired fiancee' is so very beautiful, and in great shape to boot...(Most days she'd disagree with me on both counts, but we both do this to ourselves. To her credit, she has given me the best encouragement: "If you think you look that way, DO something about it. At least working out you'll feel better." BTW This is the girl that loves her nightly Cow Tracks ice cream and cookies.)


Point is, I'm in tune with my machine. My weight fluctuates within a 10-15 lb radius depending on how I eat, and how active I am. Where I gain weight, is right on the old belly and handles. When I start exercising, I really only lose it off of my face, arms, and legs 1st...tummy last.

Since my dad went in for an angioplasty years ago, my fam took a more conscientious approach to our diet. (Well, he still likes his Culvers.) I try to be active, watch what I eat (and the content), studied A & P in college (well, before theater) and even went so far as to (almost) getting certified as a trainer. Still, I don't like my bod. I used to think if I wasn't good looking, then maybe I could be well built. But, I got stuck with a pretty dorky body frame and a messed up metabolism. And now, fat kid nipples.

I still get teased, ordering grilled chicken, salads, lo-fat muffins (They really suck...trust me) 86'ing mayo and cheese from sandwiches. ( I still like a good steak now and then) staying away from sweets and candy, drinking Diet beverages.

So you see guys, it isn't narcissism, or self abuse, it's more of an casual affected self-loathing. I don't look at other folks and judge or critique them and their bodies or shapes, on the contrary I love all sorts of nudity. (P, chill out) and I've been the "go-to fitness guy" at my office, writing health and wellness articles for our departmental newsletter- Something I'm all too happy to do, especially with a lot of unhappy and unfit suburbanite folks who need to get a little more active. And there are the "Good Nude Days" when I think I look okay. Then, there are other days when I could really care less.

You're brave, Kaiser and Raven, for walking around like you did on H'ween. I think I would've needed another 3 months of working out to get into that kinda fighting shape.

Meantime, I need to get my hand out of the Baked Lays in my desk drawer.