When it comes to my tummy, I'm a split personality. In one corner of my psyche is my gay body dysmorphia; in the other corner my apathy and stubborn/radical streak. These two duke it out in my head constantly, but neither ever really wins.
My gay body dysmorphia says, "I want a six-(preferably eight-) pack. As a gay man, that's simply de rigeur. Therefore, my big gut is a bit of an irritation and embarrassment. I'm "skinny fat," as Astro of Shoot Me Now says, which means that my chest and biceps aren't that big, but my stomach is. This just makes my body look disproportionate and grotesque. [My legs and ass are actually in rather good shape for someone whose main pasttimes these days are lying about reading/watching TV or sitting ill-postured at the computer.] No attractive gay man will ever think I'm hot. The bitches would laugh me right out of any club I'd attend for not being perfect. I'm just ugly and fat and totally unattractive and should just die."
My apathetic and radical side retorts, "I'm a lazy person with a weak will; exercise and diet are just too damn hard. My diet sucks, which is a large contributor to your stomach problem, but if I cut all the crap out, I would have nothing to eat! I only like crap! I also hate exercise. I'm just not one of those people who enjoys physical exertion. As it is, I do the most pansy-ass little routine every night and even that is hard to keep up. And why should I bother and put my self through hell when a guy who's really into me won't mind my 'spare tire'? I'm striking a blow against body fascism by not killing myself to be a typical muscle queen. I should love me for me. I'm smart and witty and a great guy!"
I try to compromise by telling myself that I have to get used to the fact that I'm a burgeoning bear cub and embrace the big belly. But even that's problematic, because the bears have big arms and chests, too, which I don't have! Ack! I'll never fit in with any group and no one will ever love me...