Yesterday I had a body fat test. If you’ve never had one before, imagine a very healthy, handsome man standing in front of you. Now imagine he’s pinching your skin with a hole-punch. That’s what a fat test feels like.
|Ow. Ow. Ow.|
I have a body fat test every six months. My last test results put me in the “poor” category.
|Poor is French for “Oh, my God you’re a fat bastard.”|
However, over the last half year, I’ve been concentrating on losing weight and increasing muscle mass. I work out with a fitness plan twice a week, see my trainer once a week, and jog on the other four days. I’ve also been eating less and making my body accept being hungry from time to time.
When my trainer finished poking and weighing me, it was obvious I had made huge progress. My numbers were down on every measurement. I waited as he did the math and the result was (drum roll, please)…
Yes, I’m still a fat bastard. I was heartbroken but, as I drove home (so overcome with cramps and fatigue I could barely use the steering wheel), I realized something: beautiful people are better than we are.
|Screw Ghandi. I read the works of Perry, now. Well, not read so much.|
For years, I’ve thought that there was something fundamentally flawed with the attractive among us. Since they’ve spent their entire lives being fawned over and catered to by the rest of us, I figured they had an overly-inflated sense of self-worth. We call it narcissism.
It’s hard to blame them. We just treat them better. Even babies have a natural preference for the beautiful. Just look at how Disney films reinforce that the prettier you are, the better you are.
|I could tell, the moment I saw this character, that she was secretly a bad guy who would have a moment of redemption in the end.|
However, yesterday I realized something. Fitness, which is the other half of attractiveness, is fucking hard. It requires a superhuman degree of determination and self-control.
|Almost nobody in the US has it anymore.|
It will take years of constant effort for me to become healthy, let alone get to the level of fitness of a B-movie actor. I can only imagine the titanic will needed to be a Schwarzenegger or Olivia Wilde. So, I am no longer sneering with contempt at models who write books and start businesses. I will no longer laugh when we elect an actor as governor or president. Instead, I shall do what everyone else in the United States does: revere them as if they were royalty.
|America's new king and queen.|