I’ve had massive ups and insane amounts of downfalls throughout my constant battle of improvement and by improvement, I mean something to match my perfectionist trait. A body I’ll be in love with and a mind that keeps me content. Of course, my mind is playing hard ball so for the past 6 months I’ve focused on my body, making small and mighty changes to gain weight, muscle and try to improve my mental health one gym hour at a time. I was desperate for something to ease my mental health and was told exercise would help, I avoided it at all times until enough was enough. Then suddenly I was hooked and I have gone ever since pushing my limits and learning that I most definitely sweat like a pig. Gross.
I have an idea of who I want to be and the body shape I hope to take on. Many of my body ‘dreams’ have come from social media (I have fallen into the trap of fake comparison yet again.) I’m obsessed with training programmes, following fitness fanatics and endless searching for leggings, shakes and protein induced meals. Improvement has taken an odd path for myself maybe even on the verge of obsessive. I’m eager for perfection and have become looking in the mirror self-obsessed, that takes me to pick at every inch and swapping between loving myself and despising in the same breath. It’s really a mind fuck tossing and turning.
Although I haven’t gained enough confidence to go to the ‘big boy weight area’, I’m well on the way with free weights in any of space I can find which possibly more outgoing than going to the proper weights section. This pushes my progress along amazingly when I first started noticing my body was ‘dramatically’ smaller than everyone else’s when they’d be whispers and snide mentions of anorexia, I was a tiny 7st 5Ibs and size 6 still hung off me. I was stuck at this ‘skinny’ weight for at least two long years of hatred. Where every pair of trousers was accompanied by a snake belt (remember them?) and I would snack my bones on every sticky out surface feeling like a gunshot ricocheting through me. I’m now heading towards 9st and I can finally give blood (my main focus in pushing for weight gain.) be strong enough to push my weight and have developed ‘fat thigs’ that I’m on and off in love with.
I’m slowly starting to gain a figure I can be ‘happy’ with. This hasn’t been smooth sailing and sure as hell had to battle through injuries that stopped me from my normal routine. I have improved the way I walk through the gym and can produce an aura of pure confidence like I actually know exactly what I’m doing to help build muscle even when I haven’t really had a clue and just copy and use what everyone else is doing around me.
For me the gym was a difficult yet fantastic leap of faith, I have loved most of the seconds I have spent within the walls of pure gym and most of the hours I spent in there really altered my mood afterwards. I would head there straight after work with the gloom of the day wrapped around me giving me nothing more than darkness and hatred dragging my feet. My weights increase and most of the time the gloom eased into a murky rainbow not one hundred percent content yet no thunderstorm whirled around my head. I’ve never suggested anything more for someone on the depth of the struggle.