It’s a pet peeve. Nothing more. Nothing less. But I hate diet culture. Not just that, but the entire tangled clusterfuck assembled around it like cellularly damaged nucleoplasm. I suppose it bothers me because it is a handy reminder of the dastardly lack of emotional autonomy exemplified by comorbid postmodern society.
Everywhere and always you see this business of “Eat This, Not That.” One weird trick… The secret super food to massive immortality… (Hint: the Serpent stole it at the beginning of time.) Do this exercise and lose 40lbs overnight… This magical yoga from the East cures everything… Etc. It’s all so very tiresome. Occasionally ads pass me by which are too annoying to ignore. “The New Rules for Eating, what you need to know!” And so forth.
Keto, Paleo, Carnivore, Megavore, Vegan, Keegan, burritos for Karen. If I had rhythm I’d make that a goddamn bluegrass song. But I don’t.
The cult of body politics is the singular most powerful religious authority on the planet today. And not for nothing. We’ve all been conditioned to seek infinite reassurance, validation and social capital. Social capital, and not moral rectitude, are the lynchpins of perceived righteousness. It, like most everything, detaches the unwary from their own internal compass and grafts false positives on their superego.
When I make these points, typical of disembodied thinkers, incentivised capital gainers and all, I hear; well you must hate fitness then. No. I resent the implication of one size fits all solutions which are often clearly transient social schemes designed only to net social capital. It’s also telling that there’s no natural third position with most people. Somewhere, somehow, we can inhabit a middle ground without being shoved into falsely dichotomous corners. This rule applies to many things above and beyond the dieing bodies your souls are steering around, meat puppets on a goddamn string.
Fitness is a personal prerogative, it varies from man to woman, woman to woman and man to man. It’s unrealistic to demand a single standard. Period. But it’s beyond ludicrous this world we’re in where you have the supposed equality of the sexes (they’re not and that ain’t bad) somehow being overshadowed by trannie-faggots metastatising in women’s sports. Though where is the outrage of she-trannies with Mr. Potato peckers in men’s sports and lockers? I guess, for all this talk of “equality” there really is a sense of chivalry left that ZOG hasn’t ficased. It is blatantly repugnant that the double standard seems to be: men and women are equal, until a man pretends to be a woman. Than what? Are are mad because he’s “dishonest?” Or are we seeing that the premise was false all along? Anyway.
I like weight lifting, I like being strong for my size. I don’t want to feel fat, but I don’t need a swimmer’s body and I don’t do running. Running is for being chased, in my book. Does this mean that’s right for everyone? No. Not at all, Rhonda. Maybe you like running? Swimming? Maybe when you take the ballgags and nipple clamps off, you realise you luuuurve you some burpees. All of those things, you might. Maybe you’re an amateur, maybe you’re an expert. CrossFit? Strongman? Or maybe you’d rather stay home in a nice, cool kitchen and leave the sweating to the savages. Cool! Same with diet. Keto works for one man, and not another. It might not work for one woman while another feels great. Some people don’t do diets, some of them keep trim, others don’t. Some are happy and oughtn’t change, others are miserable and should do tweaking. We shouldn’t be hemming people into moulds they might not fit into, nor should we necessarily be implying they must fit.
Conversely, one might not diet or exercise at all and be little worse for wear. One might feel better looking this way or that. If beauty is in the eye of the beholder then, I would think logically, that means there is no surgeon general to make proclamations of essential this or that. It comes down to personal autonomy. Throughout time and across lands that time may yet forget, there have been many conflicting standards of beauty. And today, in a neo-Babylonian mould, there is no consensus about anything- much less looking, feeling, eating and being. Multiculturalism makes it impossible for the majority to find contentment in self, because (White, anyway) human beings are herd animals who derive rectitude from consensus. Group evolutionary strategy has it that we seek cooperation. But our elements are conflicting, modern society is built on shifting sands where true cooperation is impossible because the teleological moduses of disparate people thrown in a soup are at their basis unassimilable.
In light of this, the only answer is self-mastery. Which is subjective. If the shirtless man on the internet has to tell you the meaning of mastery, than you are his student and have mastered nothing. If his words in your mouth frame your reference, you are not in governance of your own soul. A person should know, without being told, what their ideal body (among other ideals) is. I would guess that ideal would be goal driven. And maybe one doesn’t have goals, maybe none of this is important to them. Then it would seem they have no ideal body type. What they should not, is be enraptured by an infinitude of conflicting opinions whose soul purpose is to increase dependancy on the cringes of the Media-Industrial Complex.
Like with sportball, fan culture and videogames (among other things) body politics appeals to biology by tapping into hormonal reactions like dopamine. The social media in general has been driven by intense studies furthering manipulation of the individual by way of inverting Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. Body politics provides a similar surrogate experience as other replacements for religion, that of transient belonging. Like religion, it even comes with slogans that can be repeated like mantras but truly only have the meaning you imbue them with. So as with the rest of the Media-Industrial Complex, it successfully draws in the unthinking mass because the System stimulates the primitive layers of the brain which are not governed by critical faculties. Thus, most folk you meet are in a cult-like trance of one kind or another.
Except, really, the overwhelming majority of congregants have no legitimate connections. These exist as incredibly indigent floods of hormone indistinguishable to the primal layers from actual belonging- the problem being is that a flesh and blood community provided a sustained hormonal drip, whereas the media funneled simulacra are like trigger shots. Or Chinese food, you may be hungry again soon, but the shame and diarrhea will last for ages. Of course, as mentioned, you’ll be hard pressed to get that sustained drip in a body politic community in real life. Probably because connecting over something as superficial as body shape and diet isn’t really sustainable. You cannot build an effective worldview with being fit, fat or thin as a nucleus. There’s not enough to work with. You need more. And you need to do it yourself, try throwing away the magazines and ignoring the phone ads for a month or two and actually think about who and what you are, your opinion of yourself might change. You might become less susceptible to (((The Message.))) Now, some do “build” lifestyles around superficialities, but typically they expend masses of emotional energy maintaining the hype and only find that glimmer of happiness in the flesh, the online variants are really just emotional vampires stealing your life force to feed their dopamine addiction. But I digress.
There is no telos in body politick. Something approximating a logos, maybe, and almost certainly a pathos. Ideally one would be driven by what they want, and not what they think others want of them. But the ultimate stigma of religion is subconscious dread. You are conditioned to stay on the plantation, because if you leave than who knows what might happen? Full stop, that’s it. The devil you know is better than the devil you don’t. People are afraid. Of judgement? Failure? Success? You could ask, most don’t know. That’s the point of shapeless dread, it’s the ultimate method of social control. It’s internal, no external policing required.
Will the wonders ever cease?
Some days it feels like maybe, but then something reminds me the outside world still exists. And the wonders resume track. To hell, in a hand basket woven by the Nigerian Prince of Darkness.
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