I was talking with my friend Sheryl last night after she had seen some of the more recent pictures of me post-weight loss. We had this great discussion about how you get noticed more or hit on more or asked out more or etc after you lose all the weight and it's somewhat upsetting or discouraging because, for the most part, you are still the same person that you were before but just a smaller version.
And sadly, she's right. Since I have dropped a large chunk of weight, I have gone on more dates and gotten a few extra glances from gentlemen, and, yes, had quite a bit more sex than before. It's nice to have because it's like finding out that you did bid $250 or less on the retail price of my showcase on The Price is Right and consequently have won both showcases. It's this big reward that you get noticed more because the work you've put into yourself is paying off. The pain from the workouts, the eating right, everything...it's paid off.
But the sad part is that it only reinforces the fact that looks tend to be just about everything. When you see the list of the top traits that women and men want in their potential mate you get answers like "sense of humor," "sensitivity," and "intelligence." However, these are traits that you can only find once you start talking to someone regardless of what they look like. Yes, there is the issue of physical attraction but when one of the latest polls conducted by AskMen.com reports that only 6% of the women that responded ranked good looks as their top priority. Now this could be that some women don't want to seem shallow when they take such polls but to be totally honest, as Doc Love as AskMen.com said, it doesn't matter if you're funnier than Robin Williams, if they aren't attracted to you, then chances are you won't be making it to first base.
And that brings me back to my current situation...fifty some odd pounds ago, I had no dating life, no love life, and was having sex on occasion. Fifty less pounds now, I have a date this weekend, I'm having somewhat regular sex (although there was that eight month stretch with no sex), and I have men asking if I wouldn't mind going out for drinks or dinner with them. I started to get in shape not to get the men but to become a better rugby player. It was the training I needed to do to become a stronger, more well rounded player. This is merely the side effects from getting into better shape. This wasn't done for the men but for me. Granted I still have a ways to go to reach my targets but I'm getting there.
I guess what I'm getting at here is that it's odd to see how you're entire world can change when you lose weight. The opportunities that weren't there before are being offered to you on a silver platter. What you want you can probably get. What bugs me the most though is that when you're heavier you're looked down upon and thought of as someone who doesn't take the time to take of themselves. Sadly, in the gay community, the schism between the muscle boys of Chelsea and the bears of the Dugout/Eagle/and wherever is wide. There are the muscled Chelsea boys who are repulsed by the bear community and its members and have commented in the "Bitch Back" section of the NY Blade (or is Gay City News?) about how they don't like being touched by those who don't share the same commitment to their bodies that they do.
What does that mean? Because I don't spend three hours a day in the gym making sure that the muscles on my left pinkie are at their prime condition doesn't mean that I am less of a person who is not entitled to the same simple, decent respect that you should give to your fellow humans, let alone members of your own community. Having been on both sides of the coin (although, technically, I have never been a Chelsea boy and I sure as hell do not have the super muscle physique), it's a very unique position to be in. While I'm glad that I've lost the weight because it's made me a much healthier person, a stronger, better player, and, yes, more physically attractive to some people, I can't help but wonder where I would be today if I still had those fifty pounds on me.
Eh...listen to me ramble....back to work....