Winter Madness 2k13 Pajama Theme day, 2013. It was a cold day, but not as cold as the hearts of a few Ames High Students. As I made my way to the front doors, my bright hopes that I would have a fun Monday, or Funday as my mom and I call them, were dashed by vicious libel against my personage.

“Oh hey, Mr. Muscles!”

“Going to the gym, big guy?”

“Can you show me your abs?”

These were just some of the comments I heard during my short time in the halls. People had the audacity to claim that I was “asking for it” because of what I was wearing. I was wearing a tanktop, as my arms are akin to the cannon on the turret of an M1-Abrams tank, but that is no excuse to swole-shame people into feeling good about their bodies.

I can’t help the way my body is. Some people just have different shaped bodies. I swear I go to the gym as much as everyone else, but for some reason I’m just more ripped, so it must be genetics.

If people are mad jelly at the way I live my life, or girls can’t handle a real man, then everyone else should change to accommodate me. I’m perfect, all those peewee soccer trophies prove it.

Stupid people, like doctors, tell me that my lifestyle is healthy, and that I’m at risk for a lot of health benefits due to my “level of physical activity.” How does he know how much I exercise? I’ve only seen him at the gym once. I’m tired of people trying to tell me how to live my life, especially when they tell me to continue doing all the things I’m currently doing.

When out in public, I am judged by everyone. Even at the supermarket I hear people say things like “Hey, big guy, that’s a lot of cottage cheese,” or “See, Billy, eat your vegetables and you’ll grow up like him,” like I’m some sort of role model or something. I’m tired of people always assuming I eat vegetables. I do, but that is beside the point.

It seems like nobody truly understands what it means to be Swole-shamed, or Bro-pressed by the hate-riarchy. Let me explain;

Bro-pression is being told by girls not to put your shirt on, even when it’s slightly chilly.

Bro-pression is when all the receptionists at the gym know you by name.

Bro-pression is when people think you are on steroids.

Perhaps the worst of this (Bigger Warning) is how society views Swolestation. When someone decides it’s their right to feel me up in the middle of class just because of my body type, I feel like some animal at a petting zoo (petting zoos have Silverback Gorillas, right?)

It is unreasonable to assume that I always have enough peanut butter handy to go with all this jelly. You shouldn’t tell me not to be swole, you should tell men not to ‘mire. I shouldn’t be treated like a number, even if that number is my combined Stronglifts (1250lbs)

For some reason, people turn the other cheek when I try to explain my plight, could it be that nobody cares when a straight white male is being oppressed? This could be a result of racism or sexism, and since I feel as though those are possibilities, they must both be true.

This is why I’m starting a movement. These comments bother me so much that I need to prove how these comments don’t bother me at all by marinating myself in denial. So, if you want to be free of body-based discrimination, join the fit-acceptance movement and stop being ashamed of your body! No fat chicks please.