Guys Have Body Image Issues Too—We Just Don’t Talk About It

“Bro, you been lifting? Looking jacked!”

Compliments like these gave me life – the validation I needed to hear. But beneath the flex and awkward smile, I was secretly spiraling. Here’s the issue: I’ve always been painfully aware of how my body looks. I blame Hollywood, Instagram, and every single Marvel movie ever made (kidding/not kidding).

I spent an unhealthy amount of hours on my feed judging my abs against an influencer’s, one who probably dedicated countless minutes staging their photo. It’s over the top, I understand. But at the end of the day, we’re men, aren’t we? We’re meant to downplay that, pop open another protein shake, and act like it doesn’t matter.

Except we do. We care a little too much.

Throughout my twenties, I’d stand in front of the mirror dissecting myself. “My chest isn’t big enough. My arms look weak. And seriously, what’s up with this little layer of fat?” These thoughts followed me everywhere—dates, beaches, even just hanging out with the guys.

Instagram made everything ten times worse. My entire feed was dudes built like Greek statues—abs so sharp you could grate cheese on them. I obsessed over calories, protein, workouts, supplements—you name it. Meanwhile, the self-doubt just got louder. No matter how ripped I got, it was never enough.

Eventually, this obsession leaked into every part of my life. A Hinge or Bumble date became a pain because I always cared about how I looked instead of just… being present without thinking so much. And don’t even get me started with summer – no shirt season felt like stepping into the Hunger Games.

Here and there, I’d drop hints about not wanting to wear a shirt because it “felt better without one”, but my friends would always laugh it off, like:

“Bro, c’mon. No one cares.”

The reality is, we DO care. We care a lot. We’re just too afraid to admit it.

In 2022, a study came out saying nearly half of all men aged 18-35 aren’t happy with their bodies, but less than 10% will ever talk about it openly. We stay quiet because saying, “Hey, I’m insecure,” feels about as manly as admitting you cried during “Marley & Me.” (Which I totally did, by the way.)

After years of this quiet struggle, something had to change – that “something”? Yeah, it was me.

Slowly, awkwardly, I started challenging all the dumb beliefs I’d bought into about what a man is supposed to look like. I unfollowed pages that didn’t speak to me. I even had some real, uncomfortable conversations with my buddies. And guess what? Turns out nearly every friend I talked to felt the same way. Shocker, right?

Then they started slowly but surely opening up about everything – weight insecurities, muscle bitterness, hair loss freakouts, even the terror of getting older. Turns out, we were all silently suffering together.

Finally realizing this helped me see how ridiculous I’d been. I started shifting my goals from trying to look “perfect” to just feeling healthy and happy. The mirror stopped being my enemy and turned back into—wait for it—a mirror.

Don’t get me wrong – I still hit the gym regularly. But now I do it because it makes me feel good on the inside, not because I’m desperate for approval, attention or because some influencer told me I need to go.

Let me just say: getting to this point wasn’t some overnight miracle. It was messy, frustrating, and filled with plenty of setbacks. But it was worth every awkward conversation and moment of brutal honesty. Nowadays, I’m fine with my imperfections. I’m open to admitting my insecurities. Talking about my weaknesses has not only made me stronger, but has given other people the courage to talk about theirs.

If you’re reading this and secretly nodding your head, listen up: you’re not alone, bro. It’s okay to admit this stuff freaks you out. It’s okay to say the expectations we put on ourselves are ridiculous.

Let’s just stop pretending. Let’s actually talk about this stuff openly. Because at the end of the day, your worth as a man doesn’t come from how closely you resemble Thor or how much you can bench.

And trust me—the moment you truly get that is the moment you’re finally free.

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