The reason why will
shock you…
One simple trick
worked…
You won’t believe what
happens next…
Generation X, I have some bad news for you: You are going
to die.
I see the midlife crisis in each and every one of us, quietly worried about our own mortality. The weight and body image thing is
just a side effect symptom of the fact that we are afraid to die too soon. We’re
worried in the dark back corners of our minds if we will be around for the
graduation, wedding, grandchild, and more.
I see all the neurosis I once could not understand in my own
parents, now glaring back up at me on the scale each day. I know my BMI. I take
my blood pressure. I turn off Cartoon Network to watch CNN. I shop for wild
caught salmon. I buy almond milk. I drink water. I worry what’s in my kids’ 529
accounts. I’m happy when we pay off a car. I’m happy gas is slightly cheaper
lately. I use a coupon to buy lawn fertilizer. I re-watch
Reality Bites and
The Big Chill. I go to bed at 9:30 pm and I wake up at 5:00 am. I
eat smelly disgusting kale chips with my wife and I somehow now have developed a
taste for them. I buy olive oil and grass fed butter. I eat portioned ice cream
out of a bowl now rather than just eating the entire container. I go to Whole
Foods and cringe at the prices and wonder how much it might cost to live an
extra 10 years,
or if that is even possible, and do I want to, and if so why?
I see how skinny is the new élite upper-crust ideal, and
that any observable excess weight is the new unspoken social pariah to be
looked down upon, or politely encouraged away. This viewpoint comes under the
guise of health, of course, never vanity. I watch as undiluted flagrant
arrogance, judgment, superiority and snobbery leak from every corner of our
generation, and how we have managed to somehow become even less self-aware of
our annoying behaviors than our parents' generation, who we were so very critical of only a short time ago. I see the
media having a bigger affect on us than it did on our parents… even though we
know it’s all bullshit, yet we somehow still buy the game and play along anyway, which makes it that much worse. I see us try to micromanage our children way
more than we ever were, and I wonder if we will remember what it was like to distain
nagging advice and authority when they finally rebel against us and tell us to
fuck off just like we did.
I see the midlife crisis online each and every day among my generation
as they post helpful advice articles, work out, Botox, get boob jobs, pump up, slim down, nip,
tuck, douse in face acids, wrinkle creams, spray tans, and keratin treatments, drink
shakes, juice, pulp, clean eat, skip meals, change diets, give up meat, shop
organic, hike, bike, walk, run, skate, box, cross-train, pop pills, dine in,
dine out, and on and on and on. Then I watch the news about centenarians, blue zones, and people living past 100. And I read articles about how science will soon let us live for hundreds
of years. I read how eggs are now good and how margarine was a big mistake, and
certain fat is good, and other fat is bad. I read about how too many vitamins
might cause cancer. I read about how coffee, blueberries, red wine, fish oil,
green veggies, are all crazy good for us. I read about anorexia, orthorexia,
bigorexia, megaroexia, drunkorexia, pregorixia, and lots of other “-rexias.” I hear
TV commercials for pharmaceuticals, asking if I have or have ever had kidney or
liver problems, or if I am pregnant or if I plan to become pregnant, or about erections
that may last for 4 hours when the time is right.
And then I see somber news about how Angelina Jolie had a mastectomy.
And how Tom Hanks has diabetes. And how Robin Williams committed suicide. And
the stretched faces of those celebrities who couldn’t stand to see themselves age.
And the unfortunate few who went too far and fucked their faces up permanently
for the worse. Then I see tabloid
articles about the celebrities who did not age well. And articles about the
cute kid actors who turned out ugly. And the
miracle ones who have managed to look young. Or the ones who
inject cement into their asses to have more junk in the trunk.
In simplistic terms, I see that my kids can eat almost anything
because they are kids, and adults cannot because we are no longer kids. Fit or
not, most kids do not go to gyms to impress their peers, or read diet books, or
post ever-so-clever informative articles on Facebook. When I look back on the
photos of myself and my peers from decades past I can see we all look younger. And
we were so less self-conscious then, too. Our skin was brighter, no blotches, our
faces glowed, our bodies slimmer, less paunchy, less stringy, less saggy, less
everything. Our tattoos were sharper. Even our hair changed. We all had so much
more, and much nicer hair when we were younger. Now we are bald, or balding, or
gray, or receding, or damaged, or thinning, or dyed with gray roots. And rather
than embrace all this as a natural process, we ignore it and hide from it and
try and cover it up and pretend it didn’t happen.
I marvel at how kids lack the vain self-awareness us older
people have. My son and his friends all have magazine bodies but they don’t
care about them. He has the body I once had and lost, yet he slinks out of the
house each day, drowning in an oversized hoodie. Does he know how amazing he
looks to the adults who now work out for their imitation teen-style body like a second
job? Does he care? Do his friends all realize they look like Abercrombie and
Fitch catalogue models? Nah. YOLO. TMI. FTW. YEET. WTF? They have their own
worries and their youthful bodies are not one of them. We only worry about something
after we’ve lost it, or if we have to work crazy hard to maintain it. Then we
post it like a trophy.
Now that my generation has seen the wizard behind the
curtain, we worry. We worry about everything. And good God do we have a zillion
opinions. Facebook has now become the advice columns for our generation. We
post every new article that affirms what we think we believe, and then we feel
smug that we know better. We declare what we’ve become with each change in our
micro-ideologies, almost on a weekly basis. We hope our new fresh start, like a
new t-shirt, will be the magic bullet to get us back to what we’ve lost, rather
than going forward and embracing what we’ve become…middle-aged.
We cling to these new ideas and secretly fear our peers will
judge us as failures if we abandon them and give them up. Full confession: My
juicer is in the garage. My gym shoes are packed away in a plastic bin. My gym
membership is canceled. I only rode my mountain bike a few times. I can barely
get any air when I try to ollie on the skateboards that I now keep on the wall
of my man-cave, more for decoration than for practical use.
I’ve given up on many diets too. In all, I’ve briefly adopted
and abandoned the paleo, pescetarian, vegetarian, Mediterranean, vegan, Atkins,
and No S diets. I also lost 20 pounds once by cutting carbs and using
supplements, only to gain it all back. I
bought skinny jeans—yuck! I was also miserable and depressed despite the weight
loss. Only one person commented that I lost weight, too. I also hated myself
for secretly hoping for vain affirmation from my peers too. It disgusted me.
The Internet is more than ready to feed our need for
self-help. It is filled with posts about 10 things we should stop doing or
start doing right away, regarding everything from parenting, diets, politics,
education, religion, and beyond.
What’s my label-of-the-day? What does the Internet say I am?
Helicopter, lawnmower,
snowplow,
tiger,
free-range,
permissive,
attachment,
authoritative,
toxic,
anti-vax,
pro-vax,
paleo,
caveman,
herbivore, pescetarian,
vegan,
carnivore, omnivore,
banana,
gluten-free,
organic,
GMO free,
Pro GMO,
no HFCS,
Pro HFCS,
artisanal,
democrats,
republicans, libertarian,
tea party,
socialist,
anarchists,
politicallycorrect,
single,
divorced,
separated, cougar,
manther,
rhino,
milf,
dilf, polyamorous,
polygamous,
metrosexual,
monogamous,
swinger,
hipsters,
haters,
anti-hipster,
retro,
suits,
ironic,
Sincerity,
type-A,
anal,
OCD,
egomaniac,
enigmatic,
narcissist,
vapid,
vacuous,
pessimist,
optimist, realist, introvert,
extrovert, etc. Pick your poison and find who you are and get in line with the
rest of us.
I don’t care what I am as long as long as I can find an
article about it so I can feel better about my insecurities and myself.