Senior Chubby Stilts

After weeks of a lingering head cold, I finally decided that today was the day I call the doctor. Not that I don't like going to the doctor, I actually do. I just figured with the right amount of Nyquil, Advil, Thera-flu, and Jack Daniels, that I could just ride this puppy on out. It was not to be.

After an early morning plea for help, I finally get a call from the nurse to let me know that if I show up in next 15 minutes, they can work me in. No time to debate. 'Yes m'am' I said, grabbing my coat and scarf as I slid down the Batpole and made my way to the Batmobile.

Rolling toward Vanderbilt, I start to feel a bit nervous. I didn't think it was cancer, however, I always worry about that. I wasn't even concerned about the shot I was about to get. Hell, I was requesting that. No, the since of dread that was slowly overtaking me came from the fear of knowing that I had to step on the scale. More so, what that scale would say.

I'm not sure what's worse. Those digital scales, or the manual ones. You know, the ones where they just keep moving those damn little weights over until they have enough lead to balance you out. Well, my vote goes for the manual one. As I try for a moment to convince myself that my scarf weighs 25 pounds, I can feel the foundation starting to shake under my home of self confidence. I'm straining to hold it up, like that time that Superman pushed Lex Luthor's island hideout into space. However, I'm weak, and lack of self confidence is my kryptonite.

You hear a lot of talk regarding the negative affects of body image on females. Well, us males have feelings too. Especially someone like me that was raised by his mother.

Leaving the doctor's office, I immediately begin to feel 17 again. Okay, more like anytime between the years of 13 and 21.

As a rule, I try to make a conscious effort to not be self depreciating. It's not always easy and sometimes it's just damn near impossible. However, I know that people don't care to hear it, and it doesn't make them feel attracted to you. I will admit to going fishing a time or two for compliments. But, who doesn't though, right?

To take a step back, my mom is one of the most beautiful women ever. Check out this amazing picture. Homecoming queen 1957. It looks like something out of a movie. Still, as pretty as she was, she still struggled with self-confidence issues. To some degree, I think it does start there, with the parent. It may not be genetic, but I think it is passed down.

Let's be clear though. I wasn't blessed with my mother's beauty. That's just a fact. When my prepubescent years began, I was sporting acne, slumped shoulders, and what folks referred to as a bird chest. As I went into high school, my head got bigger and my body got skinnier. At that point, I just started to just retreat and take up residence in my head. When I did ask a girl out, it became more like an event. Oh the stories I can tell.

I think some of this relates to my previous post. I began to find/create self confidence in my music. But, in the end, those two became closely intertwined, resulting in negative effects on both my self confidence and my music.

 Several years after high school however,  I decided that I was done being skinny and I went on an eating tirade. This was probably about the time my metabolism started to slow, and I gained 80 pounds in one year. Sounds scary, eh? Well, after being skinny all my life, I was feeling great. I wasn't 'bird chest' anymore. It wasn't until I started seeing pictures of myself, that I realized my perception was not quite reality.

Ironically, I was feeling self confident. However, the reality was that I probably looked the worst I'd ever looked. I even had sort of a mullet. The time had come where I needed to find balance. For the next 5 years I consistently worked out, and when I hit 30, I was probably in the best physical, mental, and emotional shape of my life. All this even culminated in my first half marathon, which was no easy feat for me.

After the half marathon, I managed to keep up my running throughout the next year. I was really happy, not to mention confident. While training for the half marathon the following year, I couldn't fight a pain in my hip and ended up in a place I know all to well - physical therapy. They love me there, but that's another story.



Since then, I've failed at getting back in a regular exercise routine. I've been close, don't get me wrong, but I haven't been able to gain traction.

Despite some weight gain, I've generally felt pretty good about myself over the past year. However, the elevator ride down from the Doctor's office to the parking garage paralleled the feeling of my spirit spiraling toward the gutter.



I guess we're all fighting certain external forces that have shaped who we are. Some are traumatic, some are subtle. Some are genetics, and some are baggage handed down from generation to generation. Sometimes, just recognizing and accepting these things for what they are can be the first step in moving past them.

All that said, I don't want to call my shot, but I'm looking at being ready for a certain event this Spring. I'll keep you posted. Lots of work to do.