Written on 24 Jan 2012, for my old blog
I’m in a little bit of a dilemma now. I think I would need advice from girls, because this is a ‘girl’ problem.
You see, some girls can be rather critical of the bodies of their male counterparts. Common criticisms sent flying my direction include, “Why your calves look like chicken leg?, “Why you so scrawny?” or “Why you so fair?” Sadly, they occur more often then I would’ve liked. Perhaps it is the mass media and the repeated bombardment of images of tanned, sculpted and masculine bodies. Perhaps it stems from evolutionary selection, that women are attracted to men of such built because of the perception that they provide a sense of security. Here, I also want to note that besides craving physical security, they also want emotional security AND financial security. They want all these layers of security weaved into a beautiful piece of tapestry and served on a silver platter. But really? You want the best of ALL worlds? If your ideal man sounds too good to be true, he probably is. This ‘sweep-me-off-my-feet’ fairy-tale thinking generates a whole host of other problems. But that is a post for another time.
As a result of such societal pressures, males are compelled to conform. They turn up at the gym in droves. They pump iron and ingest overwhelming quantities of processed protein, all in their bid to improve their aesthetics. With their increased gait comes an insatiable appetite for ever bigger and bigger muscles. Ironically, none of this fitness is functional. The gym exercises are typically one dimensional, leading to muscle imbalances and chronic weakness in the stabilizers. But who cares, since women go for form over function!
Despite all the criticisms, strangely, it is this same body which is capable of walking a 32km route march with a 12kg field pack, of jogging and swimming every week, of doing several one-arm pull or/and push ups and of climbing an 8a route. In rock climbing lingo, 8a means that the problem is not so easy. It is also this same body that drags itself to training on even the worst of days.I’m clear about my goals, and my training is steeped in the philosophy of specificity. Sorry, but I prefer function over form.
Whenever such a scenario hits me like a bolt from the blue, I’m rendered dumbfounded. The rudeness of it knocks the wind out of me. For me, interaction with others is done on the premise of thoughtfulness and consideration. That some people can be so woefully unaware of such etiquette is somewhat of a culture shock for me. Composure regained shortly after, three courses of action present themselves. Should I..
Option 1 (Dove): Laugh along with them at myself in a self-deprecating manner. While I’m at it, why not add fuel to the flame and beat myself down further? I could say that I’m the most useless guy ever, how no girl has ever done so much as bat an eyelid at me and how it’s not surprise that she isn’t.
Option 2 (Neutral): Shrug off the comment. Act nonchalant. Maintain my pace of walking, continue breathing normally. Only the slight awkwardness in my step or the little sigh at the end of the conversation will betray that I ever heard anything.
Option 3 (Hawk) : Retaliate by attacking the perennial weakness of women — their sense of insecurity regarding their own bodies. Or up the ante by passing withering remarks of their lack of intellectual and/or spiritual development.
While Option 1 or 2 will allow me to retain their friendship, it has the downside of making me less of a man. It is too contrived and too self-beating. “Defend your honour!”, my insides scream. Deliberately or not, she pricked my ego, and she deserves treatment in kind. An eye for an eye, I don’t care if the world goes blind! Yet, should I yield to such a pacifist approach, aren’t I just asking to be henpecked? A few times of doing that will see the transformation of a young man brimming with youthful vigour to a downcast tramp despondent with dread. The line really between gentlemanly/magnanimous and unrefined/petty is really quite fine.
While Option 3 will no doubt lose me friends (can I even call them that?), I have a sneaky suspicion that it will flood my stomach with an awesome sense of vindication. There is something exonerating about watching the bridge that you’ve set fire to burn to a smouldering crisp. To add spice, I could even inject a healthy dose of sarcasm, e.g. “Oh my scrawny frame suits your small boobs perfectly” or “My chicken legs are an interesting contrast to your thunder thighs”. Who knows, she might even be take fancy to my scathing wit! But if she feels hurt, or worse, start crying and then go around complaining to all her friends, then gosh.. It’s my reputation blown to smithereens! Damn.. If only I were as adept at emotional blackmail.
Perhaps the people most critical of others are also the most insecure about themselves. Sheesh.. Girls. Go figure.
But the problem remains.. What should I do?
