At 63, this is how I try to look after myself.

Back in the day, I was a bit of a gym junkie. I would train pretty hard, consume a lot of supplements, and read a lot of bodybuilding magazines. Despite being totally unblessed with the necessary genetics, I would quietly obsess over growing bulging biceps, thunderous thighs, and washboard abs, just like the magazine ads promised.Back then, mirrors rather than smartphones were the screens of ruthless comparison. It was all about the body image. The body image and the projection of what today would be called hypermasculinity. Compensation for my lack of self eseteem? Maybe. Yes, probably a little. Yet, at the time I was a student nurse, living and working in a predomenantly female environment, and I think it was also about trying to connect with a little Jungian warrior archetype masculinity amidst all that feminine energy. Thankfully, not only did I not have the genetics to be a jacked cage fighter, I lacked the personality traits that might engender the mysonginy, homophobia,…