Tomorrow our office is having a health fair for employees so today a member of our Tremendous People Team* wandered by Team Samanda’s podicle to ask if we wanted to sign up for health testing that included blood sugar, cholesterol and body fat percentage.
“Does it involve fasting?” I said. “Because I haven’t eaten lunch and there’s no way I’m not eating until tomorrow.” (Anita’s answer: no. My answer: “Then yes, I would love to.”)
Then I turned to Work Wife and said, “I can’t wait for that, so the results can no doubt kick in some sort of weird eating disorder.” Next step: googling “body fat percentage” to try to find out what the acceptable level was. (E-Z chart here, complicated method of calculation — requires tape measure — here.)
This self-improvement kick has had positives — since I started working out I’m up about five pounds of what should be muscle?, which is good, even if when I look in the mirror I still see only what’s left to go, instead of what’s already been gained.
But it’s also had some negatives. For awhile I was borderline-obsessive about calorie counting, thanks to the MyFitnessPal app. It only stopped after I realized its calculations weren’t designed for someone who’s trying to increase weight, but have that weight be muscle, not fat. So, how many calories would be right? Was I eating too little to build? Was I working out hard enough?
Last night while we were watching “RuPaul’s Drag Race” and “Untucked” — I just learned there’s an equally entertaining videologue called “Drag Ya Later,” too — Logo showed a promo for an upcoming documentary called “The Adonis Factor” about how (and why) gay dudes are so body-conscious. Mr. Brooks turned to me and said, “You’re going to watch that, aren’t you?” (Answer: “Duh.”)
The commercial includes quotes from a bunch of slope-shouldered guys like the one at right; one particular “I can’t do this anymore” sound bite makes it sound like whoever’s quoted is so tired of doing all the steps to be, you know, so hot. (Me to Mr. Brooks: “Yeah, it’s real big of him to stop now, after he’s been hot forever. Screw him.”) The online promo promises a whole segment, not even hinted about in the TV trailer, about how the not-buffed-and-polished populace is treated. (Hint: It rhymes with “schmignored.”)
The other day at lunch my co-workers and I were talking about people and personality, and I remembered a quote (that I thought was from Elizabeth Taylor but turns out it was Joan Collins): Being born beautiful is like being born rich and getting poorer. “Pretty people are popular right away, just because, but not-pretty people have to cultivate personality,” I said. “Which ultimately benefits us in the long run, because pretty and hot fade hard, but a good personality gets even more attractive.”
I thought about that a few days later when I ran into Evil Lawyer, with fresh pink scars under both ears, which in turn made me remember when we ran into him a few years when he was trussed up after a “hernia” operation. (Mr. Brooks: “You know that’s what they say when they get lipo, right?”) And my friend’s former roommate, injecting himself with “I can’t believe it’s not growth hormone!” so he can still dance shirtless at circuit parties and be still considered hot even as he’s dragged into his late 40s. That shit has gotta be as exhausting as it is costly.
I have a feeling I’ll watch this Logo documentary with equal parts envy and loathing. Was it W.C. Fields who said he’d never join a club who wanted him as a member? Mine’s a little more complicated: I’d like to be able to achieve membership in the club before I ultimately decide that the pool’s too shallow to enjoy swimming in.
* “8-speak” for Human Resources. (You get used to it after awhile.)
|WHAT SAM WORE: 3-29-11|
|The shirt: Lightweight flannel button-down by Converse One Star, on sale at Target.|
|The pants: Hipster boot-cut washed khakis from Gap.|
|The shoes: Leather sneakers by Puma, from Nordstrom in Chandler.|