Toby

‘All my life I have been concerned with self-image, to a damaging extent. Most of my childhood and adolescence I was what many would consider pretty overweight. In primary school I was also bullied substantially for my appearance. By the age of 9 or 10 it got to a stage where I would feel physically repulsed by my own reflection or pictures of myself. Some weeks I would rush past mirrors unable to catch sight of my own visage without feeling fear and nausea rising in my body. Other weeks I would stand for great periods of time pinching at my fat in curious resentment. I felt that by admitting any of this to anyone it would give truth to my feelings, and so I kept quiet in the hopes that other people might not be as repulsed by me as myself. In the meantime I quietly prayed that by some miracle I would wake up one day having grown 10ft overnight, leaving me gloriously stretched thin. In the meantime I largely stuck to becoming a loud and humorous figure in the hopes that it would make up for my physical appearance in social circles.

At age 15 I saw a series of pictures of myself with my friends in the park, posted to Facebook, which I absolutely hated and I decided that enough was enough. A few days later I started dieting for the first time in my life, and on top of that began running regularly with my dad. Soon running became an obsession, and the more I ran the less I became concerned with what I was eating, for on some days I would be burning over a thousand calories in a single run. I shed around 3 stone in weight, and became so concerned with self-improvement that it dominated many aspects of my life. I completed 3 Half-Marathons in little over a year, with the goal of eventually completing the London Marathon. Friends and members of the opposite sex who would complement my new appearance vindicated my exertions. But as I shed the pounds and improved my fitness I realised that I was finding more things to hate about myself; hips too wide; arms to skinny; chest too flat, belly still not flat enough… god I even became resentful of my earlobes!

The deeper I got into weight loss the more I was unhappy with what I had revealed beneath the fat, I no longer wanted to just be thin, I wanted the chiselled aesthetic typified by Hollywood actors such as Christian Bale (American Psycho, Batman), Tom Hardy, Chris Pratt, Chris Hemsworth, Henry Cavil (superman)… etc. In hindsight the thing that all these actors had in common for me is that they had been lauded for ‘amazing body transformations’, transformations that took very little time to complete and gained them oodles of popular attention and praise. Of course, it should have been evident to me that this was achieved through intensive, expensive personal training and tailor-made diets, the kind only affordable in time and money to a privileged few.

In my lifetime the ‘super-hero’ muscular aesthetic for men has seemed to become the most desirable. It was and still remains, everywhere, on advertisements, in movies, on social media, reality TV. So when I entered my first year of university and that first loan dropped, I almost instantly purchased a gym membership, hug up my running shoes, and focused on gaining muscle. But no matter how muchbigger and stronger I got, how much I needlessly crammed my body with copious amounts of protein, and how many progress shots I took in my bathroom, I increasingly found new things to dislike about my body. I almost continuously compared myself to other men on the street, in the gym, in clubs. It was safe to say I was having something of a quarter-life masculinity crisis.

As first year came and went, I worked more on the causes of my insecurity with my body and masculinity, and with the help of some truly amazing friends, found a place in my head and my body where I was more comfortable and happy. I put greater effort into the things that have always been cathartic for me, but which I had let fall by the wayside; writing and performing music as part of a band, going to gigs, drawing, and cooking. These things, as well as experimenting with my dress and image (including the occasional application of make-up and a skirt) have helped me re-centre and become less concerned with a single image of perfection. Though I still haven’t been able to get back into a consistent running regime, I’m more secure in myself than I’ve felt before. By no means am I completely ‘cured’ of negative thought processes, of the like I’ve had most of my life, but I think I’m winning the battle. I’ve realised that despite what pervasive mass marketing tells us, there is not a standardised image of beauty, and that as an adult, what people think of you generally comes down to the quality of your character, not your image. Through these struggles I’ve also realised that as a man it is okay to be weak, it’s okay to ask for help, and even cry on another mans shoulder if that helps. You don’t have to hide how you feel or put on a façade of confidence and power. Not for you, not for your family members, not for your friends. And if you find people who have a problem with that, they’re likely struggling with their identity in some way themselves. We should all try and talk openly about our insecurities, troubles and struggles with mental health and body image. For we don’t know who else might be struggling through the same problems but just be very good at hiding it.’