I’ve always, always, always hated the way my body looked. I never thought it was good enough and still don’t till this day. Before I could learn about proper nutrition, I had already hit puberty and was obese. My genetics weren’t helpful either. I gain weight on my face and stomach, two places that society and I have deemed unsightly.
When life was simple, like early twenties living at my parent’s home and going to my entry-level job simple, I got into a routine. And over the course of a year, I lost nearly 50 pounds. My body transformed and I’m still gaining the benefits of it now. But as life got complicated with relationships and freelancing, that routine went away. I realized I was disciplined because there wasn’t anything else to do but that back then. I couldn’t keep it up because my motivation came from a place of self-loathing than a desire to get healthier. If it came from the latter, I would’ve been better about keeping it up.
And it’s been that way ever since, but that’s not good enough anymore. It’s not where I want to be. I don’t want to feel like I will finally become the person I want to be if I can just lose 30 pounds.
I recently did a thought experiment about how rather than my body being a product of ignorance and indulgence, what if it’s from the love I received from my family and friends?
My dad worked for 70 hours every week for as long as I can remember to provide for our family. When we came back from school, my mom was in the kitchen cooking for my brother and I every night. When we sat together to eat, my parents would have a routine banter. Mom would urge us not to eat so fast, and my dad would tell her to stop nagging us because we were growing boys and we needed to eat. There may have been some truth to all of that, but really it was because mom was happy that we loved her food, and my dad was proud that he was able to provide for our family. My dad grew up not knowing when he was going to eat his next meal. There wasn’t much else they needed to see to be fulfilled. And my brother and I benefited from that emotionally and physically.
Our high school was connected to Queens College campus, and in senior year we were allowed to go onto their campus during our lunch periods. Sometimes, we’d get to have two periods back to back. We went to the Panda Express multiple times a week. With a plate of General Tso’s chicken and fried rice in front of me, I would laugh until I cried with my friends. That was the year I discovered my sense of humor. I learned how to laugh and have fun with grease in our stomachs and fart jokes, tons of fart jokes.
And through the years since then, I had such great conversations over meals. I grew deep friendships over meals. I fell in love with my wife over meals. Those memories didn’t happen because I was fat or skinny. It was because I was loved.
So then what should this newfound motivation be about? It’s not about a tactic or strategy, but it’s about wanting something better for myself. Not because I can’t stand who I am, but because I want to challenge myself. Being challenged isn’t a bad thing, we should always want to become better, but I think it’s how you reward yourself that matters. Rather than the prize being the life I really want to live or the person I want to be, it’s to be the best version of who my family and friends already see me to be.