When I first started working out, my goal was to change my body. I wanted to shed my old self. I wanted to get rid of the 220 pounds of fat that I had become. I wanted to stand tall and proud. I wanted to be able to move like a gazelle. I wanted to wear nicer clothes. I wanted to have some sort of figure. I wanted to be a 6' tall, lean & muscular, blond, and blue-eyed man.

Above all other things, I wanted to be something I was not and could not attain. I spent a lot of time doing cardio and taking group exercise classes. When I hit a plateau, I began lifting weights. I also bleached my hair and started eating low fat, low carb, and high protein. On a whim, I did some drugs and never looked back. I loved how they made me feel in-touch and how they made me something I never was, skinny. I was snorting crystal meth, cocaine, special K. I was dropping acid, taking hits of ecstasy, and even shots of GHB. I loved how it made me become part of a group that I aspired to be. My favorite memory was one of me buying drugs for my druggie pals on the piers during a gay-pride party. I had arrived. I was there. I was it. The tall, good-looking, blond men loved me for being such a party boy. It meant that I was one of them. I was part of the in-crowd. I was them.

Then one day, it hit me: I will never be 6' tall, blue-eyed, and permanently blond. So, I stopped. I stopped taking drugs. I stopped going to clubs every weekend. I started eating properly. I started working out responsibly. I stopped changing who I am. I started appreciating what I had and what I had to offer. I worked to improve me for me.

I looked in the mirror and finally liked what I saw: a 5' 6" tall, black-haired Filipino who had some great things going. I liked my strong, muscular legs with calves that others would kill for. I liked that I genetically had wider shoulders than most of everyone. I liked my shaved head. I liked the way my left eye is slightly lazy than the right. I liked that I had gapped teeth. I liked that I laughed at my own jokes.

I met someone. I fell in love. He returned the love. It's been going strong for almost six years. He's not perfect. He shouldn't be. He makes me laugh. He makes me smile. He makes me think. He makes me think that I am okay. He makes me think that I am fine. He makes me think that I am beautiful. He makes me want to be me. Later.  ¶ 11:09 PM