Treachery of the flesh

The body is a traitorous thing. Sometimes it feels like no amount of manipulation can make it do quite what you want it to. Then there’s the look of the thing. It can be a constant source of depression for some. Others seem to be captivated by their appearance. The only reliable thing about a body is that everybody gets one.

They’re a tough thing to treat right. It's a lot to consider. Food and exercise, obviously. Getting this right is like advanced calculus. Sure it’s possible and some people can do it. But for most of us, it’s all confusion and magic. On top of that there are factors such as sleep, recovery times, the relationship between body and mind, environmental conditions, sex and no doubt many others that have an effect on the meat sack. Keeping the old girl running mint can be a tough ask.

Pretend there’s a spectrum of body care. At one end is the well-cared for body: eating right, sleeping well, exercising lots, the right shape and weight. Everything functions impeccably. At the other end is the neglected body: basically think of your typical student lifestyle, and then make them fatter and greasier. The average chump fits in somewhere in the middle.

I’ve run at a few different spots along the spectrum. Once upon a time I was 110kg’s, a wannabe alcoholic who ate infrequently and badly and slept irregularly and rarely during the night. My body wasn’t a good place to be. I have also been 72kg’s, eating well and exercising compulsively. I felt lean and efficient, everything worked spotlessly and life was a zephyr which I floated upon.

At the moment I am somewhere in between – but leaning slightly towards the sharp end of things. The physical me gets a lot of use and plenty of good zees. My diet is out of my handslargely but it could be worse. I am carrying more weight than I should but it’s nothing uncouth. I’d like it to be better though and have been working towards it.

And here’s where the treachery comes into play. Even though I am trying to eat less, do more, and target some specific muscle building, I see little improvement. The body is stubbornly trying to stay in its current state. Despite what I’m doing, I haven’t provided enough activation energy to make the reaction start. I’m speaking in (vaguely) chemistry terms because to me it seems a bit like a relevant parallel. Things just want to stay in their current state.

And then there are the things I can’t control. The physical appearance. The abundance of hair. The hand-eye coordination. The bone and facial structure. It’s a bit cavemanesque. Not to mention the small hands and feet, inflexible fingers and spindly arms. It could drive a man back to drink.

Having said that I love my body (I don’t mean it like that you sickos). It’s gotten me through 24 years of living, many of them good. And I do what I can to care for it. I only get the one and that makes me think some care should be taken. Besides, life is better when you look after yourself. It’s not just a thing smug healthy people say. So I’ll do what I can, even though I often don’t know if what I’m doing helps.