Just a thought - or rather, my way of procrastination.

If I were to make a list of all the things I have to do right now, it would be quite extensive. So to save myself the agony of having to remind myself of every single thing I haven't done, and to save your agony of having to read the long long list if it were to be created, I shall not reveal.

Instead, I'll just tell you something that I've been thinking about today whilst immitating a hamster on the treadmill at the gym. (I mean, seriously! doesn't running on a treadmill remind you of a hamster running in one of those plastic wheels? The only difference is that we don't store bits of sunflower seeds inside our mouths that makes our cheeks puff.)

Anyway, I was thinking of the very sole purpose of the gym. I mean, looking around you see oversized bodies, skinny bodies, slender bodies, bodies that look like they've just survived an overdose of steroids, fair, tanned, sunburnt, and the list goes on. Yes, and then of course, you look at your own body, and wonder which category your body belongs to. Usually, you'll find something about yourself that you're just not quite satisfied with. And you complain, experience some mild depression, blame yourself for it, and then stop. The thought stops there. Okay, so maybe you make little plans about excercising more often, or to stop binging on that bar of Cadburys you bought at Safeway when they were 2 dollars off. But nothing beyond that. And usually, by the time you reach home, you're too tired, and that Cadburys bar is still there, and so tempting, so... u piece the puzzle.

Thus, I decided, perhaps I should think beyond that. Think beyond the superficiality of mankind, to see what really makes body image that big a deal. Now if you're going to start scrunching your forehead or scoff at the statement I just made, shut up and read on.

Unfortunately, just as I was about to rationalize my thoughts, the Madagascar theme song came through the set of earphones stuck in my ears, and I was instantly absorbed into it. I begun to sing along (in my head, of course) and before i knew it, the 4o minutes of working towards a better body was up. Darn. (Sorry if you were waiting for my "further thoughts"). But I was happy, not because I actually saw a difference in the way I look - in fact, i looked worse since I was perspiring all over - but I was happy because I felt good from the uplifting beat of the Madagascar themesong that carried no meaning whatsoever. And also of course, the adrenaline rush. I was happy, because I felt healthy. I was happy because I felt that I was now prepared to get on with my life. Body image and looking perfect was the last on my mind at that time. Honestly.

By the time I walked out of the gym, I thought about how media saturated society has become, how we no longer feel secure with the way we look due to the bombardment of billboards featuring Christina Aguilera, Paris Hilton (nomatter how much we hate her), and whatever else that makes us feel like shit.

So I guess my point here is that if you believe you have an identity, stand up for it because if you don't, no one else will.