I eat whatever the fuck I want.
I’m that skinny bitch back in school every dude bullied and every chick empathised with — seriously, people couldn’t get enough of me.
Until…DA DA DA! One lovely break, as it goes — I suddenly bamboozled into a tank; not literally.
I mean…I still ate really shitty food and had no concept of dieting, but my body started displaying stretch marks; my family thought I’d found a cure for men finally getting pregnant.
It wasn’t the case though, turned out I just had an insanely fast metabolism and “with age comes extra weight”?
That isn’t exactly what happened either, well actually what happened was my job required me to be more active — hence I was running a lot, lifting a lot, and quite frankly snacking a lot; without ever realising nor having the intention of “body building” or as people call it “bulking up”.
People really started looking up to me, I admit — my self-esteem even went up a little bit; though my penis still remained tiny, but that’s an argument for another time.
Through no dire intention, my body started aching and well — I kinda developed shoulders and biceps?
They were tiny, not as tiny as my penis, but noticeably larger than before; hence I went to my trusted doc, and simply inquired.
“Doc…I’ve been 48–50kg since I was 16. I’m 25 now. And…what the fuck, I think my body just gained like 20kg?”
“Yeah…KEEP UP DOC! I weight freakin’ 78Kg now. And I have all this muscle building up…”
“Oh yeah that’s normal…”
Seriously…that’s all my fucking “EXPERIENCED” doctor had to say.
I knew something had to be done, I liked being that skinny bitch — women loved me when I was skinny!
I mean I didn’t get laid, no shit; but women really liked the fact that I was skinny, it was basically the only thing I had going for me.
Now I was no longer skinny, I was kinda muscular and well…big.
Anywho…I started thinking, screw this I’ll just join a gym; go back to being a skinny b.
Well that backfired, because now…not only was I NOT losing weight — I was gaining more muscle.
I began to worry…but my mood felt a lot better and suddenly I had all this energy.
I pondered…until one day, this Thor looking dude walked up to me and we had a “chat”…
I explained to Thor how I used to be really skinny, but recently all this weight seems to be building up — well being the philosopher that Thor was, he explained,
“Maybe this is a sign from the universe…maybe you’re meant for greater things!”
“Fuck…I don’t know dude. I’m just saying, there ain’t nothing wrong with a bit of muscle. As long as you feel happy about it…”
Turned out Thor impersonator had a point…not about me being meant for greater things; I’d always be a loser. What he was right about was though was simply this…was I happy?
Well I kinda was, actually.
See, through this miraculous wonder — my pants actually finally started to fit around my waist.
I had no interest in bodybuilding…because uhh…too much weight lifting. Eww.
I did however have an interest in boxing; capitalising on this opportunity, I enrolled myself into a basic instructional course and thus the journey began.
Soon, I was skip-roping like I was back in Kindergarten and punching bags whilst making orgasmic noises.
Things were looking pretty good, I’d say.
After this unintentional transformation, what I believed would be a truly uneventful surprise — I’d discovered, well actually…it wasn’t all that.
I was doing more, engaging more, thinking a lot better, and finally instead of getting pizza delivered to my house — I could run to the store and order takeaway; which allowed me to take advantage of the “Take away only offers”.
WIN WIN, bitches!
Any who…fast forward a year later, and there I was — not much had changed, I mean physically I looked bigger; but my face was still ugly.
I did feel rejuvenated, as though God himself had sent a blessing down below on a once skinny fella — “It doesn’t always have to be this way”.
Throughout this pursuit though, my eating habits didn’t change all that much.
I mean…I still ate pizza and lasagna.
I did start incorporating vegetables and protein shakes, because well…everybody else at my gym said it helps with recovery; apparently it does.
The lesson I had learnt was simply this, I still ate what I liked — I just didn’t do it in excess.
When I did, I just compensated for it in my work-out.
Though I hadn’t never thought of it as a “work-out” or a “diet”; I never quite put a label on it.
I didn’t have a fitness “goal”, neither did I have any aspirations of being an abdominal model.
I still hate going to the beach, and prefer wearing baggy shirts; though they’re no longer as baggy.
I never really had the intention to transform, it just kinda happened?
The lesson I learnt at the end was this, everybody around me was miserable — they all had a “goal” to reach.
On the other hand, I was always okay with being skinny or whatever the hell I was now.
I’d see dudes making orgasmic noises far worse than mine and bench pressing the holy hell out of what-the-hell-even-is-that weight?!
People largely looked miserable…
On the other hand, here I was…eating whatever I liked, not over indulging myself; but at the same time keeping my physique in sorta okay shape.
I wasn’t overtly skinny anymore and neither was I overweight — I was just right.
Though I’d always felt just “right”.
I had no problem being a skinny bitch and neither did I ever have a problem with a slightly less skinny bitch — though the fact still remained, I still had an ugly face.
What I did learn on my journey was…I just did what made me “happy”.
With no defined goal — I didn’t WANT or NEED to do anything.
I just kinda did it for the sake of it, and well…I was proud of myself.
In doing so, I inadvertently had learnt to take better care of myself; had learnt more about what every muscle actually did — but most of all, I didn’t do it to impress anybody or achieve any particular set of goals.
I found my love for boxing, and I still ate a regular sized pizza every now and then.
Realising that in this pursuit without a clear destination, I’d certainly realised my journey.
End of story.
Back to sleep.