The Nudity of Tank Tops. in Whey and Sonic Screwdrivers.

  • Sept. 20, 2021, 7:15 p.m.
  • |
  • Public

Ya know. I’ve worn wife-beaters to the gym for years. Never really gave it much thought. The gym is a highly sexually charged alternate space where levels of clothing clearly vary from what should be acceptable going through a self-checkout at your local grocery store. I’ve been a skinny twink. I’ve been skinnyfat.

Now I just feel fat.

I said “I feel”, folks. I know how to use my “I feel” statements. And through it all, never really felt self-conscious much at the gym. That’s a place of self-betterment. Of improvement. Admire the overweight guy taking care of himself, aspire to be the buff chick cranking out pull-ups.

Hell, I’ve even been to a nude beach twice. Completely freeing. Didn’t feel self-conscious at all.

But until recently, I’ve never worn a tank top as street clothes. And I have to say: I feel self-conscious and exposed.

How the hell do chicks wear these all the time without feeling self-conscious? Mind you, for many years I wore baggy clothes. I was a buck thirty-five* and wearing XL shirts. Wasn’t until Candi that I started wearing clothes that FIT. Nah, she didn’t give me a makeover or anything. Just gentle encouragement and affirmations.

*135 lbs ~ 61.2 kg, for any standard metric inclined. I’m around 74 kg as of this typing, which is still relatively healthy. Oh, for those in Murica: 1 kg = 2.2 lbs. Thus, deadlifting 225 lbs is around 100 kg.

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Shoulders out. Arms out. Nowhere to hide.

And gut out. I look pregnant. I know some chicks are into chubby guys, but I’m not into chubby guys. My preference.

Maybe I’ll just get used to it. Nobody really cares, after all. Or maybe I wish one random person would double-take and objectify me. I maintain that if you can’t reach the low bar of being objectified, you haven’t much worth at all. (Okay, not reeeeally, but I like/want to be objectified.)

Or maybe I can pull an Arnold. See, according to Bro-legend, he cut the bottom off his training pants so his calves would be exposed. He felt his calves were a weak spot. But being reminded of it caused him to train them, turning them into a strength. There’s a bit of merit in facing your dreams demons, so to speak. Wow, that was a hell of a typo.

Anyway, I hope to keep taking as many selfies as possible so maybe someday I can point and say “Yes. Yes, I did unfuck my body. It was fucked up, and so I fucked it down.” Never know which selfie will be it.

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