When I was working on my book trailer, I looked through some photos from my body-building days trying to find one of the ‘old’ me. I came across the above photo, and decided to use it in the video.
I look at this photo and feel so conflicted. Part of me would do anything to look like this again. That vein in my shoulder? I haven’t seen it for years. I miss it.
The sensation feels similar to what I imagine drug addiction does. All of the good, and perfect, and pure flashes into my mind, without any of the pain and anguish that accompanies it.
If only I could look like that again …
Surely, I’m evolved enough to be able to handle it this time…?
As an alcoholic would say … just one drink wouldn’t hurt.
I wish I was sane and sensible about dieting and weight loss, but I’m not. I can’t do it, without falling into a pit of self-loathing and self-punishment. The road looks enticing, but the sharp rocks cut my feet.
And then another part of me kicks in. Why do I even need to look like that?
Is a muscled body any better or worse than what I have now?
Would I be more loved, more respected, more successful? Would I sell more books?
Would it make me happier? Maybe I would be happier — I’m no longer sure.
The conflict never ends…