I have had what some might refer to as “a moment of clarity”. A realization has hit me that has been hidden deep within my subconscious for the better part of 25 years and I think in the spirit of being who I am its time for me to bring it out and be open and honest about it.

You see ever since the ripe old age of around seventeen I have been what you might call plump, a little smooth around the edges, a beef sandwich, a bowl of porridge, a roly poly, a chunky cold medina (ok I think you get the point). As a seventeen year old in Australia that wasn’t too bad. Sure you have to put up with the usual mockery and daily fat jokes, which at times was heart breaking and at other times could send me into savage fits of uncontrollable rage, but you know all in a days living down under as they say. Thankfully, at that time, in the late eighties, fashion in Australia was what you might call “LIMITED”. Us young men were usually more than satisfied with a worn down pair of desert boots, a pair of jeans and a flannelette shirt over your favorite branded rock tshirt. Simple. In the summer it would usually be a pair of thongs, board shorts and a quicksilver tee (which only stayed on about half the time) and in the winter in the privacy of your own home you would probably slip on a pair of UGG BOOTS. Fantastic. No judgement, everybody dressed similarly it was real easy.

In light of my earlier experiences with clothing you can probably imagine my great sense of shock and discomfort when I transitioned to EUROPE in the early nineties and became exposed to the ever developing world of “FASHION”. Straight away I was like a fish out of water, a blind man in an art gallery, a tin man living by the seaside, a sex worker with no orifices (there I go again), and I really had no idea what to make of it. Which brings me to the actual point of this story and a somewhat surprising revelation.

Yes I cannot lie to myself, or you anymore. For a the longest of time now I have not just misunderstood, but I have also looked down upon men who suffered from the dreaded Johnny Bravo Syndrome. What is Johnny Bravo Syndrome you might ask? Well in this day and age it is actually more common than one would think, but to suffer from this particular syndrome you must be of the male gender, have at least one full length mirror in your home, pluck your eyebrows and have a propensity to wear shirts which are three sizes to small for you. Yep, I thought such persons were largely egotistical and were quite often drowning in their own self importance. However recent events have given me a much broader understanding of the overall situation. Some of you might have got to this point of the article and come to the conclusion that all my previous thoughts on this particular subject were purely born out of being a bitter, jealous fat bastard. Well if you were actually thinking that I am here to tell you that you WERE ABSOLUTELY CORRECT.

Internally I actually believed that these humanity types were just showing off and trying to make themselves the center of everyone’s attention. I sincerely believed that they were somehow trying to grossly overcompensate for something else they were missing in life, potentially the lack of a engaging and or solid character. I now realize that my thinking was tragically flawed and borderline ignorant.

You may ask yourself what has made me finally see the light? Well about 6 months ago I made a life decision to try and finally get myself to a decent, and more importantly healthy weight. So far the journey has been both challenging and interesting. Mixed results on the diet side, but if I am honest these days I am much more consistently good with regards to my eating habits than I used to be.  Where I managed to gain the biggest enlightenment however was with regards to the exercise segment of getting healthy. I have had myself a personal trainer for the past 3 months (thank you Hannah Cramer) and the differences I have seen in both my overall fitness and more relevant to this story the shape of my body has been a real eye opener. My shoulders, arms, back, sides and legs are a shape that I haven’t seen for more than 20 years and to be honest, I really like it. Now I am not trying to suggest that all of a sudden I have the body of Chris Hemsworth, far from it. There are still parts of my body (mid section mostly), that actually make me cringe with disgust whilst at the same time filling me with a huge sense of disappointment that I have allowed myself to get to this point, but the signs of change are certainly encouraging and more importantly visible. And this is were my point lies, when I see within my tshirt that my shoulders, arms etc. are looking shapely and toned, I am proud and I want others to notice. I often find myself staring at my arms and pulling the occasional flex to see where my development is at and I understand that it has taken a great effort to make these changes and the dedication to make it happen is an achievement in itself. It shows I have been working hard, applying myself and trying to do the right things for myself and my family to live a long and healthy life. It makes me happy.

So from this day forth, I David Ozi Borg declare that I will no longer think less of men who have great muscular bodies. I will no longer think that they are a bunch of soulless morons whose intentions are only to show that they are better than others, I will keep the jealousy demons at bay and instead continue to work hard on my own journey whilst appreciating what others have achieved. Finally I will embrace their right to flaunt for which they have worked so hard.

That is of course unless the process has turned them into an obnoxious prick.