I may not have the perfect body. I may not have the chest of a god or the abs of an Olympic athlete. What I do have is a body; a healthy body that allows me to live each day fruitfully and productively. It also allows me to simply sit on my ass and do nothing but laze around, because those days are important too.
I can jump.
I can run.
I can lift.
I can lift my love and carry her around.
I can embrace.
I can squeeze.
I can eat and cook and create all sorts of things.
My body may not be model worthy. My body may not be the “ideal” spitting image of Zac Efron. My body may not be ‘perfect’. But it might just be perfect for me. For my life. For my love in my life. For my friends and family.
The percentage of body fat on my body does not dictate how attractive or sexually appealing I am. The percentage of body fat does not dictate my success as a musician or composer or lover or father or boyfriend or husband. The percentage of body fat only dictates one thing:
How much fucking fat I have on my body.
It doesn’t dictate strength or endurance. It doesn’t dictate whether or not I’m better than anyone else.
Today I’m finally feeling confident. Today I’m feeling rather good about myself (a little tired, but emotionally good.)
Throw some positivity around. It doesn’t come too often.