So last month, my boyfriend and I ended our ‘bulking’ phase of building muscle at the gym. He began a diet in an effort to lose some fat weight before the next bulk (as is what you do), and I was left a bit torn between two paths.
I was still set in my resolve not to bother with gaining weight for now. I didn’t want to continue bulking as I enjoy doing it with him, and I would probably burn out at the rate we were going. I am at the point that I am maintaining pretty well, based on my eating habits, so I could have just twiddled around until he was ready, but I don’t particularly enjoy doing nothing.
The other option I had was to cut with him. I won’t lie, it seemed like a no-brainer decision. I can’t not be making progress, no matter what direction it’s in. I’m the kind of guy who will drive a longer route that takes more time just to avoid sitting in traffic. I can’t stay still.
And to be perfectly honest, I was happier with that decision. With the circumstances I’m in right now (and for most people, I’m sure), life being skinnier is a million times easier than being bigger. I haven’t sweated through my shirts once, my feet have never been sore, people continue to be impressed with my weight loss and I feel like I’m being taken a bit more seriously. Best of all, my boyfriend can sleep and doesn’t have to hear me complain all the time.
All of that is great, but I still felt strange about it. It wasn’t that I felt as though I was giving up (because I haven’t… yet), but the fact that I was so much happier being skinny made me feel like I was having an identity crisis. For the past nearly six years, I’ve identified myself as a gainer. Someone who loves big guys and was working to become one.
Lately, though… I mean, I’ve taken breaks before—lots of them—but nothing has felt quite like this one. This time I knew it was going to be a while before I could ever try again, and I had so thoroughly burned myself out that it felt as though I was losing my desire. I wasn’t fantasizing about it, I wasn’t drawing fat guys, I wasn’t chatting on Grommr. I was happy to see my love handles melt away (though they’re very much still here, the bastards), I was happy to be able to run and catch the train without looking silly or losing my breath for an embarrassing amount of time.
Every so often, I worry that I may be over it. I mean, it’s not like I didn’t know what I was getting into with this. That maybe I got my fill, and now the excitement is gone. I was disappointed that I couldn’t put up with the downsides anymore—it didn’t feel worth it. Maybe it was just a phase, and all the stuff I’ve spouted over the years about how this is who I am wasn’t true.
So, I was (and still am) having an identity crisis (combined with issues that I have with the bear community, as well). I’m not sure what to make of myself anymore. Can one identify as a gainer if he’s actively losing weight? What am I, at this point, if not a gainer? Just some guy? Will I ever get the spark to gain back?
I really don’t know, at this point. I’m still figuring it out. I still have very powerful waves of wanting to be fat again. Moments, like now, that I look at my old pictures and have a very powerful, somewhat painful yearning. But those moments used to be constant, now they are somewhat fleeting.
Regardless of all that, I feel oddly content. I’ll continue to go with this flow until I can figure out what it is I truly want. Hopefully that doesn’t take too long.