The platitude of wooing for ‘approval’ is violent in our acceptance of its value.
In the 12th grade I was so skinny you could see my heart beating through my chest; it was gross, I was so embarrassed and so I started working out. My dad had purchased a bench and a bunch of adjustable free weights. As the years passed, working out became a routine that I couldn’t live without. It was no longer about looking good, it was about how it made me feel. Alas we all learn the secret (don’t we?), ‘healthy mind - healthy body’ and vice a versa. In my late forties now, taking care of myself has become my full time occupation and looking a certain way is not so important. Not that I don’t secretly wish I had a significant butt, hefty quads, shapely hamstrings, thicker calves, a shorter more muscly neck with a furry chest of hair...but I wouldn’t change a thing because upon reflection; in my youth it was all about looking better, so people would ‘like me’ and so...fuck that. Support this podcast