It’s kind of ironic that I’m writing on anything to do with fitness. Without a doubt, there are quite literally thousands upon thousands of sport/health braniacs far better qualified (and way more suitable to the task) of documenting fitness journeys than a dumb chud like me. I have spent no time studying “the body” (unless you count the annual SI swimsuit issue, cough, cough….and maybe others….) or investigating proper, peer-reviewed, bon fide research into the latest findings on sport nutrition. In fact, all I’ve ever really learned diet-wise is that pooping scarlet for two days is not necessarily proof of an internal hemorrhage (thank you so much, red beets). I’m a terrible fitness example. But it gets worse. Fitness Assessment Scarring As embarrassing as it is to admit, there are darn few weirdo diet/exercise/workout schemes in existence that I have not considered (or even tried) over the course of my life. Truly, no idea or suggestion was too loony or whacked out for me. If it promised a body like a superhero I was there, ready and willing to believe. Now, in my own defense, this clearly self-destructive journey mainly started when I decided to try acting. That led to having my body assayed by a Hollywood casting director. Bad enough that his job by its very nature is fairly surface-oriented – he’s casting for a physical “look,” not a healthy self-image – and it’s not his business to worry about how said look comes about. Also, for the record, I will note that said casting director was gay. I say this not as some affront to anything but rather to highlight the additional damage inflicted on my psyche. Specifically, let’s just say actresses aren’t the only ones who get to feel icky and uncomfortable as they disrobe for an “assessment.”...
