I’m in the bathroom. Doing the thing we are ashamed of doing, even though everyone does it. Once the loaf is lopped, I get up. Wash my hands. Lift up my shirt. Look in the mirror. Pinch the skin surrounding my belly-button. There’s not much flesh folded between my thumb and my index finger, but the [...]
I'm in the bathroom. Doing the thing we are ashamed of doing, even though everyone does it. Once the loaf is lopped, I get up.
Wash my hands.
Lift up my shirt.
Look in the mirror.
Pinch the skin surrounding my belly-button.
There's not much flesh folded between my thumb and my index finger, but the discontent looms over me. Like a Netflix show I've never heard of. One that everyone (including my cat) can't stop talking about.
Why do you bother me so, belly fat? Why do you haunt my happiness? Why do I want you to feel vacuum sealed. Why do I want you to be as tight as the skin on the back of my knuckles?
Wrestling with “Why?” is something you HAVE to do, sooner or later. Especially if you have a penchant for pessimism (and absurdity), as I do.
Because, death.
Why do you want to lose fat and build muscle? Who cares? It's going to melt into the mud, eventually. Why are you spending hours in the gym every week? Shouldn't you be doing some else with your time? Something more fulfilling? Why do you feel guilty when 90% of your dinner plate consists of cheese? And even guiltier when 90% of your dessert plate consists of cheese? (Cheese danishes are the kingpin pastry. Prove me wrong.)
After all, you might die tomorrow.
Ah.
There it is.
Death is undefeated, save for (perhaps) Ted Williams… and those Boston Dynamics robots that will undoubtedly terminate us humans, Terminator-style. Some people spin the finite nature of our existence upside down.
Momento mori.
They make death motivating.
Makes sense, on some level. I might die tomorrow: I should tell my wife I love her more often; I should thank my parents for everything they've done for me; I should…
But if I WAS going to die tomorrow, I wouldn't go to the gym today. And I wouldn't eat chicken and cabbage for dinner.
Momento mori?
More like —
Momento more enchiladas and nachos, please.
Enter: “Why?”
“Why?” is the ONLY defense you have against the absurdity baked into living the type of life required to build a body your former high school classmates will be inclined to stalk on Facebook. (I know you're watching me, Kayla.)
I'm gonna show you how I wrestle with “Why?”… because it's not as easy as asking yourself the question.
Your immediate answers to “Why?” are almost always lies. And this is a BIG problem. Your immediate answers might actually demotivate you.
Asking yourself “Why?” is more fashionable than making Donald Trump jokes, thanks to Simon Sinek's TED Talk. (Not surprisingly, I disagree with the premise of Sinek's talk. I'll air my grievances later.)
Sinek introduces a concept he refers to as “golden circle.” The golden circle has three layers. The outer layer is “What,” the middle layer is “How,” and the inner layer is “Why.”
Sinek argues that we're too focused on the What of things. Instead, we should focus on the Why of things. Look at Apple, for example. Dozens of companies make computers that are just as functional as Apple computers. But we spend extra cash to buy Apple computers… because we know their Why.
Apple doesn't say, “Here's a computer (What). Give us money.” Apple says, “We believe in beautiful design and challenging the status quo (Why). We just so happen to make computers (What). Want to buy one?”
Sinek says the golden circle (and starting with Why) hacks the biology of human decision making.
We believe we are in control of every decision we make, like a King on the Iron Throne. We aren't. A good thing, considering what tends to happen to inhabitants of the Iron Throne. And, let's be honest: The Iron Throne can't be comfortable. That's why Joffrey was a douche. You'd be a douche if a battle-axe was burrowing into your barnyard.
Your nonconscious-self makes the majority (all?) of your decisions. And your nonconscious-self is emotional and irrational (in the traditional sense of the word), as opposed mathematical and rational. For instance, if we used our “rational” forebrain (the part of our brain that we recognize as “us”) to purchase clothes, we'd care about effectiveness and price. Does this piece of clothing do the job it's supposed to do? If so, where can I get the cheapest one?
We'd go to Goodwill and find whatever clothes kept us not frozen and not naked, for the cheapest available price. But that's not what we do. Instead, we voluntarily spend 10x more on a shirt made from the same material (and made in the same factory), just because there's a swoosh printed on the front.
We do this for a host of reasons, none of which are “rational.” (Again, in the traditional sense of the word. In the end, we do this for reasons that are, indeed, rational.)
Sinek says knowing the Why of something influences the decisions we make, because the Why is emotional. Just like the part of our brain calling the shots.
Remember Tom Sizzles? The stuffed bear you had when you were little? Even if you saw a Tom Sizzles duplicate in the store, your Tom Sizzles was different. A brand new Tom Sizzles couldn't replace your Tom Sizzles, even though your Tom Sizzles was missing an ear, sodden with saliva, and shitting out stuffing.
This is the power of knowing the Why.
It creates an unbreakable emotion connection.
And so…
Here’s a call to arms. To really think about your Why. Because the What is easy. Less body fat. Bigger muscles. More money. Larger house. Grandiose genitalia. You know, typical beta male stuff.
But what’s your Why?
Grab a sheet of paper. Give yourself ten minutes. Write down some answers that come to mind.
Or don’t.
Yeah.
Don’t.
My bad.
You should have seen this coming.
The Why is a lie.
If I think about why I eat deadlifts for dinner, squeeze an abundance of cabbage through my sphincters, and abstain from alcohol on weekdays (despite numerous neurons in my body protesting otherwise), here are some things that come to mind:
I don't want to have my sternum cracked open with a hammer and chisel in lieu of a heart attack. I don't want my autopsy to read: slipped on a bar of Irish Spring in the bathtub. I don't want to have to buckle myself into a motorized chair in order to traverse the staircase in my house. If I get fat, I have to find another job.
Regarding the final item on the list…
The secret to motivation? Handcuff your income to your body composition. You'll find yourself in the gym, even when the gym is the the place you'd want to be found. Now you know how every gymfluencer stays motivated. You're welcome.
Do I get bonus points for honesty?
Nah.
Because I'm not being honest.
I first remember feeling self-conscious about my body when I was eight years old. Eight. Years. Old. Back then, my income wasn't handcuffed to my physique, nor was I concerned with my health. I just wanted a leaner body.
None of my current Why(s) were on my radar when I was eight. In other words, my current Why(s) are lies. They are stories.
Guess what?
Your Why(s) are lies, too.
Let's play a game.
Think about someone you find attractive. Someone that's beautiful, in your eyes. Do you know why you find this person beautiful? You could rattle off reasons, I'm sure.
I LIKE HIS/HER EYES.
I LIKE HIS/HER SENSE OF HUMOR.
But if you plopped the same eyes, the same sense of humor, the same [whatever] into a different shell, would the attraction remain? Probably not.
Your Why(s) are lies.
Stories.
We rarely admit (publicly) to the physical aspects of attraction because we fear being labeled as shallow. The Why(s) we often squirt regarding attraction are less about attraction and more about avoiding judgement and criticism.
Sometimes your Why(s) aren't even attempts to explain Why.
They're publicity stints.
Eat. Reality.
Maybe you aren't afraid of judgement and criticism, and you admit to valuing facial symmetry, bodily proportions, and other physical characteristics in regards to attraction. Your Why(s) might be closer to the Truth than someone else's, but they're still probably incomplete.
And for good reason.
The parts of you brain controlling your nonconscious-self don't have capacity for language. This is why some situations leave us speechless. We know we're feeling something, but we can't articulate what we're feeling.
When you think about the Why(s), you're forcing yourself to consciously explain something you don't consciously understand using an incompatible technology.
Your Why(s) will miss the mark. Sometimes you'll miss the entire mark. Sometimes you'll miss a portion of the mark. Either way, you're missing.
This is why I recommend stripping the story from your Why(s) and eating reality. I'll show you what this looks like, using myself as a guinea pig.
I want a body that looks a certain way. I want a body that's able to do certain things. I want… you get the idea. This is my What.
Why?
Maybe it's because, growing up, I worshiped Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Dragon Ball Z. And then I came to associate a certain body type with a certain type of… I DON'T KNOW. All I know is that somehow somewhere SOMETHING about my physical-self got tied to SOMETHING about my mental-self.
Happiness?
Fulfillment?
Self-worth?
Self-esteem?
Confidence?
I don't know.
Something.
Hell, I had sensory issues as kid. I would thwomp a tantrum if my socks weren't on “perfectly.” I couldn't handle the feel of the seam on my toes. (I also used to roll the top of my socks down into tubes.) I didn't start wearing jeans until I was twenty-one years old. I hated the feel of denim.
What if my obsession with my body is a result of some sort of sensory defect? What if this has less to do with looks and more to do with feels?
I'm not above the law. Your Why is a lie. Mine is, too. If I strip the story from my Why (as much of the story as possible), here's what remains:
The thought of having a certain sort of body fills me with pleasure and comfort; the thought of not having this body fills me with pain and angst. This is reality. And thus, a binary is born.
I can either (a) build the body my brain is telling me to build in search of comfort and pleasure, or (b) maintain the body I have and stew in pain and angst.
Stop.
Stop.
I know what you're thinking.
Mr. Anthony, comfort/pleasure/pain/angst shouldn't be tied to your physical stature. That's not good. You should love your body, no matter what. Blah, blah, blah…
It's almost impossible to consciously decide to suddenly love your body, for the same reason it's almost impossible to suddenly perceive someone you find to be attractive as ugly. If you want to learn more read this “body love” article.
I'm not afraid to admit: having pleasure/comfort tied to my body composition feels icky. Vane. Narcissistic. It reeks of First World luxury.
C'mon, Jeeves. Didn't you get the memo? I'm only eating lean protein today. Take away that perfectly healthy organic matter that I'm choosing not to eat because my brain is broken.
I'm not saying my brain is right or wrong, I'm just saying that it is. If could make my brain not be by chanting a mantra, then I would. But that's not (typically) how things work.
If you're in a similar spot, if pleasure/comfort is tied to my your body composition, then you only have one option:
Go.
And when you stop and ask yourself “Why?” here's the answer:
Because (somehow) something about my physical-self got tied to something about my mental-self. And, given this, I can either (a) build the body my brain is telling me to build in search of comfort and pleasure, or (b) maintain the body I have and stew in pain and angst.
I don't want to stew in pain and angst.
Therefore, I choose (a).
This is my Why.
Don't get fancier.
As Nietzsche said, “He who has a why to live for can bear almost any how.” Eating reality is the simplest and most effective way to handle “Why?” (and the absurdity that rides shotgun with trying to give Kayla PTSD).
To further reinforce the power of eating reality and why you SHOULDN'T get fancy with your Why, I'll leave you with one last thought.
When faced with “Why?” people often get philosophical and fancy. They go deep. Because, emotions.
I want to be able to walk my daughter down the aisle on her wedding day.
That's a beautiful sentiment, Bro. But you created a Why that's (likely) going to decrease your motivation and increase your procrastination.
Your daughter is only five years old. The human brain has a 90ish day horizon line. In other words, something happening 90+ days in the future is too far away. You won't connect your “today actions” with the future.
“I can screw up now, because there's still time for me to get my act together.”
Eat it (reality)… or be defeated.
I could go on, with more examples. More examples showcasing the dangers of getting philosophical and fancy. More examples connecting Why(s) with lies, and how chasing lies won't end well.
Maybe another time.
Everything circles back to eating reality. Reality is immediate. It's guttural. It ends up being more emotional than most overly thought philosophical Why(s), too.
You want to be comfortable? You want to feel pleasure? You want to stop the pain? Stop the angst?
THEN GO.
NOW.
Taste the Gainsbow,
Anthony Mychal
ps
I kicked this off by mentioning Simon Sinek's TED Talk. I also mentioned disagreeing with Sinek. The reason: we don't care why people do what they do, we only care about how things make us feel.
You might be all, “No, Anthony. You have it wrong. I'm not a selfish person that only cares about how things make me feel. I buy TOMS shoes!”
In that case…
You're even more selfish.