Despair: The Body Image Chronicles

  • Wednesday, September 2nd, 2009 at 3:05 pm by Bear Frazer

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Man what a curvy road life is. I remember when I was younger, I was a relatively ripped looking little kid. I was energetic, I tanned easily and I was an elementary school heartthrob. I was like a littler superman and you could tell when I took off my sweatshirt during gym class that I felt invincible (no worries - I still sported the white undershirt).

But as I got older, my eating habits increased ten fold and by fifth grade, I started becoming a little bit chubby, to say the least. I remember when I was ten-years-old going to the neighborhood pool. Someone in my family said I could lose fifteen pounds. What ended up happening throughout the years was me gaining probably a hundred instead.

When you’re in high school, looks start mattering a whole lot and I was that fool in baggy clothing and extra large billabong hoodies that stood at 5′6″ and weighed 228 pounds. People liked me quite a bit, but girls didn’t find me attractive. Hell – I didn’t find myself good looking. Sure I liked the way I dressed, but when you’re wearing a hoodie in the middle of July during the New York summer, then chances are you probably aren’t doing it for style. Plus, when was the last time someone got a handjob in a hoodie during a hot summer’s day?

Yeah … those were the days when I’d walk to 7th Street in Garden City and chug two liter bottles of Wild Cherry Pepsi on a bench outside of Grand Union. Clearly, I didn’t help my cause, but fuck it. I was depressed. I was like a mini lardass who held his weight decently well. And while I usually had a smile or some anger in my face because of my friends playing pranks on me, inside I was a mess. Don’t get it twisted; I enjoyed life and a pair of headphones amplified that enjoyment, but as I whole, I felt lost and down on myself. For the longest time I had such a low self-image and my self-esteem was just as low, something I still encounter from time-to-time today.

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I faced the facts. I was never gonna have that “Abercrombie” model look (nor did I want that exactly – their clothing ain’t my style) nor was I going to be that jacked out specimen that folks gravitated towards. I always wanted to be on MTV to become the next Carson Daly, and while I had the personality to be on the channel, only good lookin’ folks were put on. I always aspired to have that WWE wrestler’s look, but I was never big enough to get that nor did I put as much work into trying to get it. I would start working out and tried running, but I was so self-conscious that I just quit and got high for two years. I would also try forced vomiting two or three times, but the after taste of my own puke was unbearable.

Then I moved from New York to North Carolina for school back in 2001 and it was a complete culture shock. I was extremely depressed. I missed home. I missed sidewalks. I missed being able to go somewhere within a minutes reach. In North Carolina, I was stuck in the middle of nowhere without a familiar face. My friends were 400 miles away or so, and the only thing in site was grass and the cows chewing on it.

Most of my freshmen year I spent playing sand volleyball (with a hoodie on, no less), attending class and spending the remainder of that year in my room, especially when my best friend on campus was kicked out for some bullshit. I don’t want to come across as a complete hermit because I had a bunch of friends on campus, but second semester fucked with my head.

On top of that, the food was terrible, almost barely sanitary. Shit – we didn’t even have ketchup bottles or anything. Oh, we had ketchup alright, but it was in large buckets and the mayo would occasionally be dipped in, making it look like the tomato condiment has an unexpected orgasm.

So yeah. I barely ate. As a matter of fact, I really ate only one meal a day and that was from Wendy’s when my friends would take me on the two-minute haul so I could get some cheeseburgers and fries.

Then I remember, one spring afternoon, my buddy Kurtis (who was doing ROTC) dragged me with him to the gym and made me bench 160 pounds. I’ll never forget how that conversation went down.

Kurtis: Come on, Bear. Bench it.

Bear: No, man. I don’t want to.

Kurtis: Why not? It’s only 160.

Bear: Well … alright. Listen. I’ve always been uncomfortable bench pressing because I feel like people watch you, which is whatever, but I’m a bigger dude and I feel like I should be lifting more. And I know I can’t.

Kurtis: Dude. That’s about your weight.

Bear: No it isn’t. I’m 228.

Kurtis: Fine. Let’s weigh you.

Bear: Alright. Let’s do it.

I figured, “Yeah Kurtis. I’ll show you.” So I get on the scale and I end up weighing … 168 pounds. From September 2001-April 2002, I lost 60 pounds and I never fucking realized it. I also grew to 5′10″, which is fucking weird.

It all caught me by surprise. For the longest time, whenever I looked into the mirror, I was always staring at the image that stared back at me and the image was one of a fat kid. And now, I was thin.

When I saw my parents, I remember them thinking that I was anorexic. My friends back in New York were all freaked out … and said they missed fat Bear.

That coming summer I started running, doing push-ups and really took care of myself. By the time I returned to college, I transformed myself. My shirts were tighter, complimented my body type, my hair was shorter and my frame was more solid and compact.

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I remember I came back to Pfeiffer University early that sophomore year because I was an RA and the Editor-In-Chief of the student newspaper. The minute I stepped on campus, the few girls I befriended during freshmen year were blown away. They were like, “Holy shit. You look fucking amazing.” Within hours of being on campus, I was the most popular person there. I would win Homecoming for the sophomore class weeks later, then in my junior year to eventually becoming homecoming king.

Same thing would happen years later when I returned to New York to intern for The Source. Back home, I suddenly became eye candy to a degree. It was and always will feel weird when someone expresses interest in me like that just because I’ve always had such a low self-confidence.

I guess I bring this up because as I edit my screenplay, it takes me back to other folks who never felt comfortable with their own bodies. I remember speaking to Darren Hayes, formerly of Savage Garden, and he was telling me as a little kid that people called him Doze because he was a fat little kid and how he was picked on quite a bit. Fellow Australian singer Daniel Johns from Silverchair struggled with anorexia for years as documented in the group’s single “Ana’s Song.”

Anyways, in the September issue of Fight, I spoke to Mams Taylor and learned that he too struggled with body image. For those of you who don’t know him, he’s an awesome dude who raps and will be making his MMA debut soon (after he heals from an unfortunate wrist injury).

This didn’t make the publication, but I figured I’d share this with ya now. I asked him why he started training in MMA, and here is what he told me.

“I started boxing in London when I was 14 and that made me from the fat chubby kid that used to get picked last in soccer into a real athlete. I became the captain of the soccer team to captain of track, and I won gold medals in most track events … just not high jump because I’m a short ass. But other than that, boxing really got me fit. And from there I became a bouncer back in London and I was the smallest dude at the door, so you know, I’d always get picked on and I’d always have to deal with people a lot more than the other bouncers. And one day, I went my best friend, to his fight gym, which called London Shoot Fighters. I went to that class and thought I was such a tough guy, and some kid who was 70 pounds lighter than me just threw me around and made me tap out like 100 times. So that was my introduction to Brazilian jiu-jitsu. I was like, “Wow, I really need to learn this shit.”

That’s one of the reasons why I love MMA. These athletes who compete in the sport are real dedicated and put their time in at the gym. They aren’t these Abercrombie models, they aren’t these huge WWE wrestlers. They’re just normal fucking people who work their ass off and it’s like, “Hey. I’m working out, training in a discipline that I love and I’m dedicated to the grind. And I have the same body frame as you. I’m not a genetic freak. I just put in my time.”

To me, these Mixed Martial Artists are role models – especially the smaller guys like Brian Bowles, Miguel Torres, and Jens Pulver. These dudes are a fucking inspiration. I may be bigger than these guys, but that’s the beautiful thing about this sport. They are a testament to the fact that you don’t need to be a bodybuilder or some genetic freak. You don’t have to fit in with whatever stereotype the media pushes. It doesn’t matter anymore whether you are the biggest or most beastly. Now it’s about taking what you have, defining yourself and feeling whole.

I just kinda wish this was on a more mainstream level when I was growing up. If I saw somebody around my own size working hard and feeling comfortable with their body, then I probably would’ve taken a lead from them and helped define myself.

It’s not just the women who suffer from this. Us males do too. Whether certain ones are man enough to admit it or not is a different story.

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Your BFF,
Bear.Fuckin.Frazer.

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5 Responses to “Despair: The Body Image Chronicles”

  1. Romey Louangvilay says:
    September 2, 2009 at 3:26 pm

    you a sexy beast bear, you better know that!! lol hahaha j/k. Your blog touches good points as when we were growing up, we didn’t really have those role models to look up to — “normal fucking people who work their ass off — i can relate growing up yeller in Alabama.

    good job on bringing a personal experience to the mma world.

  2. Samantha says:
    September 2, 2009 at 3:33 pm

    Awww, it’s like a peak into the unprotected Bear’s life. Every fat kid grows up to be crazy, this proves it.

    I do love this blog though… I wish the Mams excerpt would have made it to the mag. Damn editors ;)

    -S

  3. Beatnik says:
    September 2, 2009 at 6:10 pm

    I just kinda wish this was on a more mainstream level when I was growing up. If I saw somebody around my own size working hard and feeling comfortable with their body, then I probably would’ve taken a lead from them and helped define myself.”

    Same thing I say to myself all the time, wish MMA peaked about 20 years ago…

  4. Adam B says:
    September 3, 2009 at 6:46 am

    You know as a reformed chubby kid myself I’m 100% with you on this. Society’s concept of body image is just as hurtful to males as it is females and MMA fighters actually set a heck of a great example for us. I wonder when (or if) the mainstream media will ever pick up on this, or if they’re going to continue to just call us “barbarians” while touting the “amazing heroics” of steroid filled monsters.

    Your story is an inspiring one. Thank you for telling it.

    PS - White Ralph was the one who got me into the gym waaay back in 97 and I’m forever thankful to him for that.

  5. Your BFF, Bear.Fuckin.Frazer. says:
    September 8, 2009 at 9:39 pm

    I’m glad all you are feelin’ this :)

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