Vigorexia

It would only seem natural after months of obsessing over Viggo Mortensen, his movies, his physique, that scene in Eastern Promises, that I would be diagnosed with vigorexia.  But, it is not what you think!


Vigorexia is a condition that I have only here in Spain.  You see, the other day when I was leading a discussion on common addictions, such as caffeine or internet porn, I found that the classroom full of mature adults had absolutely nothing that they wanted to admit to!  This lackluster response was either due to an inherit inability to understand my American, a personal embarrassment or I had just happened upon a large group of seriously boring people.  Lackluster.  So, what?  I could keep repeating the ills of cigarettes.  Done.  Or the addictive powers of the internet.  Boring.  The horrendous repercussions of gambling.  Same old story.  Or, I could admit to my own addiction...  exercise.


If I don't go to the gym, hike a few miles, get outside and move around - I am a cranky bastard.  Not only that, I feel despondent, don't want to eat and generally don't want to interact with anyone.  If I feel a little soft in the middle or my legs aren't toned...  If I cannot lift my backpack with complete ease...  If I am embarrassed in my clothing...  these issues trigger the likes of Mr Hyde and need to correct myself fast!


But, isn't that normal?  It's not like I am addicted to adrenaline - I am not constantly jumping out of airplanes for goodness sake - it's just that my body is telling me that exercise is good for me and that I must maintain.  Good heart, good health, right?


No.  According to these Spaniards - I have vigorexia.  In English - bixorexia.  En serio?  Now, I realize that when I go to the gym and run for an hour that I have more muscular legs than the guys.  And I realize that when I walk around in shorts - I get stares from all of the old biddies on the park benches.  And I realize that I cannot wear the Liverpudlian stripper heals because I would look like a drag queen.  But mentally ill?  I think not.


Well, at least I now know why I look so different from everyone here - more foreign than Amazonia - and why only bomberos seem to ever think to ask me on dates.  I am a physical challenge - or someone in desperate need of rehab!