A Fine Balance

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The Streets--"Fit But You Know It" (mp3)

Here's the great challenge of adulthood, perhaps of all of life: how do we strike a balance between taking care of ourselves and becoming obsessed with ourselves?

In our image-obsessed culture, rather than seeking some happy medium, we have become a polarized body society, every bit as dramatic as Republican vs. Democrat, Northerner vs. Southerner. For every story I read and confirmation I see of the obesity problem plaguing our country, and perhaps our Southern states in particular, there is a counter story of an actress getting freakish plastic surgery, a study of people who work out obsessively until it becomes a kind of anorexia, a photograph of a friend who used to have breasts, another People magazine photo of Matthew McConaughey being interested only in getting cut and playing Frisbee on the beach.

We know that, at the extremes, how easily the thin or the fit (not necessarily the same groups) make fun of the fat, how the too-thin are mocked as "annie" (for anorexic). But it's the middle group that I'm focusing on here, those who look exactly the way they are supposed to look, but who took a dark turn to get there.

I have a friend who has gotten into _____. To be sure, considered in isolation, his accomplishments are quite impressive--he is most likely _____, has a solid set of _____, and has completely _____. And yet, _____ has become all that he lives for. He has little interest in most aspects of his job, putting in as little time as possible so that he can head to _____.

Perhaps more significantly, he is hard to be around. It isn't the _____ at odd hours of the day. It isn't envy, at least on my part, I don't think. It's how much his world has shrunk down to almost nothing beyond his own _____ and the corners he's now willing to cut to get there. He isn't a "team player" anymore; there isn't anyone else on his team. He isn't a colleague even. He does what he has to do and gets out.

He's certainly not alone. My neighbor leaves the house at 4AM to go work out at the Sports Barn (my other neighbor leaves the house at 5AM to hang out in the school locker room and smoke!). A woman down the street and her husband have both exercised themselves into injury, not knowing when to quit.

Even I, believe it or not, have felt that same pull. I remember during those summers when I was running my ass off how it affected my mind as well. I remember feeling like I had to get in a workout, once the summer ended and obligation kicked in, and how resentful I felt toward anything that stood in the way of me and that workout, whether it be person or job. I remember stepping on the scale daily, checking parts of my body daily, massaging the increased muscle definition in my quads, waiting until I could wear a certain t-shirt to Nightfall.

If you become all about yourself, then you become all about yourself. Right? What I mean is, the decision to put yourself first tends to start perhaps innocently enough, but when you focus on yourself that much, everyone else becomes a very, very distant second. I think it's very easy to get into that mindset and very difficult to shake it. There are people for whom narcissism is a severe personality disorder, and their lives are tragic because everything that happens in every situation must be first, foremost, and only about them, regardless of whether they have husbands, or children, or friends, all because they didn't get what they needed in childhood. They can't help it.

But just like there are two types of diabetes, I would argue that there are two types of narcissism. And the one I'm talking about is the adult-onset version. I can't really even tell at this point how pervasive it is, but I'm guessing that it's pretty pervasive, an easy disease to get. Just spend some time around someone who is starting a diet or a workout routine and watch how quickly almost everything that he or she has to say becomes about that diet or that workout. And that's only the very first stage.

To be fair, it isn't only body image that makes a person this way. The artist, the writer, are arguably among our most self-obsessed citizens. And those who have let themselves go certainly don't merit any kind of badge of honor.

But adult-onset narcissism seems to be a growing phenomenon. I can only speak to the kind that exists in schools, because that's where I work, but the impact there is, I think, particularly instructive. You see it in the coach who was hired to coach _____, but wants to switch to _____ so he can get in his workouts in preparation for his own _____. You see it in teachers who want to create afternoon activities, for example _____, that may serve the students, but weren't suggested by the students, and weren't suggested because of the students. They were proposed in order to meet the needs of the adult.

I suspect that the solution is a simple one: friendship. One of the myriad benefits of good friends is their ability and willingness to call us on what we need to be called on. They will let us know if we need to be spending more time getting in shape and they will let us know if we are spending far too much time on that self-absorbed project. Even better, maybe they're doing it with us, and that will certainly help with the balance.

But hearing them if they're calling us on something, well, that's another thing. Especially when that voice in our own heads is so loud. And seductive. And self-promoting. And complimentary. And caring. And................

The Streets' 2nd CD, A Grand Don't Come For Free, is available at Itunes.