CW: Body Talk, Weight, Body Image
My body is a vessel, more than it is a temple. It’s my means of existence, a form of my communication, decorated to match my personality and interests, and the very object that shapes, informs, guides, changes, and develops my thoughts. Without this vessel, I couldn’t think of these words to give to you. Without this vessel, I couldn’t write these words. Without this vessel, I would cease to exist. My body, as a vessel, allows the formation of my legacy — what I will be remembered by; what I want to be remembered by.
The relationship between one’s own psyche and their body is perhaps one of the most complex there is. What is more interesting, is that our psyches are a part of our bodies. Our bodies house our thoughts, our senses, our feelings, our organs, our inherentness. My body, your body, is a complex system of complex systems; each interacting and affecting the other. Further, aside from what is inherently attributable to our bodies, are the variables that our society deems important to how our individual perceptions of our bodies should exist: size, shape, ability, destruction and protection, and control.
These variables combine internal and external factors; They are not wholly intrinsic or extrinsic. In fact, most often, they confound each other.
Our bodies, also, do not exist in a stable state. From the moment we are born until the moment we die, our bodies continually change. Growth and development; Regression and deterioration. Our bodies differ from themselves on a daily basis, occasionally at the cellular level and occasionally at the tangible.
This is the story [so far] of my body.
I don’t know the height or weight I was at birth, but I do know I was born without need for any additional medical intervention. Yet, within the first 48 hours of my life, much like most other western-born assigned-males-at-birth, I endured an invasive surgery in which the foreskin of my penis was removed. My body was permanently altered without my permission, without effective means of communication, and without regard to my autonomy. Now, I don’t believe all circumcisions are medical malpractice; I do believe that prepubescent circumcisions are. Medical professionals are required to follow a strict code of ethics, of which, an infantile circumcision certainly violates: maleficent non-autonomous agism.
As I aged, I grew taller, weightier. By the 5th grade, I had reached 108 lbs. I did not much think of my weight at the time, but I remember longing for the day in which I graduated from a two-digit weight into a three-digit weight; As if that was my signifier of the change from childhood to adulthood. After all, most adults do have triple-digit weights. That summer, I swam competitively, and lost over 20lbs. Upon dipping back down into the 80s, I was met with many comments from peers and family members noticing the weight I had lost. Again, I thought nothing of it. The number of pounds had no relation to my identity as a person… Everybody weighs something.
A few years later, in middle school, my family began to make comments about other facets of my body. Specifically, I looked like the spawn of a frog and quasimodo. That is to say, I had a flat ass and a massive hunchback. Why my parents care(d) about my lack-of ass is unbeknownst to me. Further, if my hunch was a problem — though I had never, and still never, had any pain from it — why poke fun at it, instead of having it observed by a medical professional? By now, we know my parents lack commonsensical logic, yet their consistency is highlighted here: they love to hurt their children.
Moving forward, I was insecure about both my hunch and my ass. Both being aspects of my body that I had little-to-no control over. It wasn’t until I started having sex, bottoming specifically, that I understood that the size of my ass was, in fact, perfect — not because it was made in god’s image, as my parents suggested, but because it was made for my body. Why would any parents critique the size of their adolescent’s ass? In any case, the bodily validation (bodily validation here used as an extension; my ass and the rest of my body) I was meant to receive from my parents, was instead granted to me from my sexual partners. My ass is the perfect size for my body, and I love it. More so, my hunch has never bothered me; not physically, not mentally. My shoulders lean forward and my spine curves a bit; there’s no diagnosis or underlying condition. I’m built differently from others, and I have grown to love that aspect, not fear it.
Being made in god’s image presents its own case of problems; Namely, the notion of perfection, idealization, and divinity. If we suggest, as god does, that god’s being is perfect, and should we be made in their image, then we suggest our perfection as well. What we know to be true, is that this perfection is valid in abstract contexts, yet, in the material world, perfection exists only as an ideal. Idealization — whether of god or of our peers — exists as a domination-complex. It perpetuates the idea that one individual has the potential to be more-perfect than another. Of course, with the addition of divinity as a variable, idealization becomes acceptable once more: A divine being is certainly more perfect than the non-divine being; Is a perfect being always divine?
That question begs whether god is actually perfect or not, whether their divinity implies perfection, and whether or not that perfection and divinity lives within us. The answer to which, doesn’t quite fit amongst this piece of my body, but the point stands:
The mass-acceptance of christianity normalizes the act of idealization and strive for perfection. The cyclical nature of religious perfection enforces the falsity of obtaining human divinity.
The eucharist lies: eternal life, everlasting salvation, consumable divination. What is inherently natural to our beings, our body and blood, are disrespectfully repurposed for manipulative indoctrination. This is what I understand sacrilege to be.
We have danced past the point of no return; idealization and the strive for perfection have parasitically infiltrated every aspect of our existence. I urge you to listen to what is said around you daily, you’ll find bodily comments among the most frequent. Further, I urge you to take a day, a period of 24-hours, where you consciously verbalize no words in regard to your body or others’. I am not suggesting all bodily comments are negative; I am suggesting they’re all weird. These comments, idealization, and the strive for perfection exist among all communities, but as is my experience, I’ve found them especially pervasive within my own community: the fags.
I left high school a proper twink: 5’11 and 140 lbs soaking wet. A large portion of male-loving-males fetishize their ideation of a perfect body: white, young, hairless, taut skin, and some musculature. Pros: I am white and young; Cons: I am hairy, my skin is not tight, and I lack musculature. Luckily — if that’s what you wanna call it — my pros won out. My first year at college multiplied my body count by many degrees. Luckily for my partners, I subverted the freshman fifteen and stayed under 145 lbs until the end of 2020. I gained weight gradually across 2021 and 2022, stagnating between 180-185 lbs.
As a sexually active young adult, my grindr profile was consistently updated with new pictures and stats, one of which being mh increasing weight. As I plateaued, the engagement my profile received plummeted. Not only were other users not tapping or chatting with me, but they were not viewing my profile either. At pique twink, I was averaging 300+ daily views, and at pique weight I averaged nearly 70. Amongst the lack of engagement, I noticed that the users I did interact with had dramatically changed as well. My new crowd was older, hairier, and similarly lacked musculature and definition. Had my own othered-community now othered-me?
Though I can’t be certain, it sure seems that way. In early 2024 I began a medication that consequently made me lose 40lbs. Since I have returned to a twinkified-presentation, my engagement has returned: Views, taps, and conversations reached new piques on Grindr; On Bumble, my matches increased; And on Tinder, I met my current boyfriend. It’s certainly the case that the majority of this increased engagement came from subconscious idealization. I neither think my boyfriend or most of the men engaging with me consciously recognized my weight-loss. Instead, my body re-engaged with their idealization.
The gay community’s desire for their idealized-man is one of our most-dishonorable qualities. Othering via physical qualifiers borders on hypocrisy. This issue though, is boundless. Engagement with my physical body has increased on all social platforms, in the office, at the bars, and within my own conversation. This very story is a contributor.
Those 40lbs taught me that I will always have an insecurity with my body — regardless of what it does for me. Like me, those insecurities shift and change. Like my body, they are a part of me; they are not me. Like my psyche, my body is dynamic, yet fully aware of its own divinity.