A 2 a.m. Gym Session


It is definitely worth asking: what motivates me?

I tend to shy away from the autobiographical when it comes to my blog. However, I am slowly learning that the two are inextricably linked. If I am to write successfully about acceptance then I must abandon the goal of writing objectively, as it were. In other words, I am my writing and my writing is I. 

I implore the reader the ask themselves the question I posed at the beginning of this post. Motivation often comes from unexpected places. Perhaps one is motivated by vanity, to acquire the body type or the excessive wealth one wishes and the means to flaunt it shamelessly. Fear is also a powerful motivator; disease, war, and death are but a few under this category. 

My profile pictures do little to inform the reader of my height or weight. I am not of a desirable weight, to put it mildly. Harshly put, I am contemptibly porcine and would do well to change that fact, at least some would say. Admittedly, I am not entirely convinced that overweight or obese individuals are unhealthier relative to their thinner counterparts; I have read both sides of the arguement extensively and it’s difficult to come to an absolute conclusion. But that’s not a conversation we shall have at this moment. I am more decided on the psychological effects of excess weight. I am sure the reader will be familiar with the opprobrium associated with overweight and obese individuals. To be overweight is to invite scathing criticism and ridicule by peers, friends, and family. Every morsel of food is over-examined and the overweight consumer can expect to see eyes roll, heads shake, or fingers wag when the viewer disagrees with a food choice. And this ought to be a scandal. It is such an unaccepting outlook against the heavy (fat-shaming as it is often referred to) that ought to be confronted and rejected. This leads me to the source of my motivation

I am motivated by hatred. 

I have not been able to accept my own physical appearance, perhaps a deficiency which renders me poorly qualified to comment on the acceptability of things. I began my weight loss journey because I was completely unhappy with my physical appearance. In fact, I began my “lifestyle” change because of the feelings of disgust elicited from mere glances in a mirror. The worse thing about being consciously aware of all of my feelings is that I realize how psychologically unhealthy such an outlook of myself truly is. Nevertheless, I still abstain from fast food, eat more vegetables, control my portions, and exercise as often as possible, even at 2 a.m.

So I end in a similar place where I began. Important questions must be asked and the answers must be honest, no matter how painful they may be; it often turns out that the questions are the most difficult to formulate and the most painful. Where does one’s motivation come from? And once the source is apprehended, is it healthy to be the basis of one’s motivation? 

4 comments on “A 2 a.m. Gym Session”

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