It’s interesting how insecurities can come and go with age. I had someone almost come into my life (a big beefy dude who I caught feelings for, and it ended with me getting brutally, yet somehow affectionately, friend-zoned) and seeing his body brought back all these insane insecurities about my own I had back in middle school.
For a life of critiquing things visually and giving thoughts on improving them, I took a step back from my creative outlets to really understand why I was feeling this way.
I recounted this man that came into my life as quick as he came in. I broke down the beauty I had seen in him. His personality is what drew me in, but to my surprise, his body was like one of the men on the cover of those cheesy, romance novels you see your estranged aunt with seven cats reading. Overall stupidly beautiful and ridiculously muscular.
The biggest thing was he didn’t realize it at all. He had worked hard and loved the body he created simply for himself. It was the first time I had seen someone with the body and mentality I desperately wanted as a scrawny, little middle schooler.
Looking back at my own body after encountering this man, I understood what I wanted: not to be jacked for easy access to empty sex. Definitely not to be one of those Instagram dudes who posts thirst trap selfies with dumbass captions like “Time for some rest and relaxation 🙂 [flexing arm emoji].”
What I want is what he has: to work hard for big muscles and fill out a shirt well… but for no one else but me. No shallow or sexual agenda attached but to make middle school Jeremy proud of the future he had hoped for.
Though life is temporarily melancholy in this dude’s lame and abrupt romantic absence, the impression he left has relit a fire I had long since forgot about. There will be no thirst trap selfies posted in the workout routines I’m pursuing now. Just me getting bigger, inspired, and happy with that grown-up version of middle school me.