I have a weight problem.

See, I'm 6'2" and 168 lbs (as of this morning; that's 1.88m and 76 kg).  That's a BMI of 21.6 (well in normal) and a body fat percentage of ~17.6% (according to my scale, which seems to track with other measurement methods).  I wear size 32 pants and a medium shirt.

I have a weight problem.

I was a "blocky" kid through junior high.  I hit my growth spurt one summer: I went away 5'8" and came back 5'11" and didn't put on any weight.  I had a license for years that reported me as 6'1" and 118 lbs (~53.5kg).  Yes, 118 - that's not a typo, and it was accurate until I hit 18.

I have a weight problem.

From that growth spurt up until age 24, I was the stereotypical "skinny twerp", "twig", "bean pole", whatever you want to call it.  I ran track and never got muscular legs.  I worked out with the field guys and never got any kind of chest or arm definition.  I ate as much at meals as guys who weighed 50 lbs more than I did, and I never put on any mass.

I have a weight problem.

I got my first "real", corporate job shortly before my 21st birthday.  I moved up in the ranks, and by the time I was 24, I started having a lot of pressure and responsibility.  Stress finally did what no amount of effort on my part could do: between the ages of 24 and 29, I gained weight.  It was my 9th anniversary at the company, just before my 30th birthday, when I saw a photograph of myself and shuddered: I had a visible paunch and puffy cheeks.

I have a weight problem.

In a coincidence, I'd started cutting back on soda a few weeks earlier (I do this periodically as part of ADHD maintenance); I changed to just cutting out sugared sodas entirely and watching what I was eating.  I'm not entirely sure how much I weighed when that photo was taken; by the time I bought a scale and had been watching what I eat for a couple of weeks, I was 196 lbs (~89kg).  That was March.  By the end of August, I was 155 lbs.

I have a weight problem.

I discovered a small, congenital hernia in late August and had surgery to repair it in October.  The weekend before, I was 152 lbs (68.9kg).  Between fasting for the surgery, the trauma of it itself, and the malaise after (medications and such just throw my appetite way off), I was 147 by the end of the week.  When you're already cutting back calories, you don't have any reserves to draw on.

I have a weight problem.

When I went in to get my staples out (a couple weeks later), I was 145 (65.7kg).  My doctor mentioned it, and I told him my history.  He said simply, "You're putting on weight.  I want you to get back to about 170-175 and stay there for 18 months."  It took a while to put on, about six months, but I did.  And I stayed there for 18 months.

The 172 I ended up at was a relatively healthy weight, at least by the numbers.  I was pretty active - that's when I started taking vacations and traveling.  I was hiking and biking and swimming and doing all sorts of things.  But I still looked "off" in my eyes and felt "off", like it wasn't really my body.

I have a weight problem.

Almost to the day, after 18 months at that weight, I started explicitly exercising.  Running had always been easy (other than weak ankles), so I went back to that.  I also got a gym membership and started back at weight machines and some free weights.  For 2 years I tried various things, and while my weight fluctuated between 160 and 175, I never managed to put on any muscle.  None.  You could still cound my ribs, and I still had a pocket of fat just below my belly button.  Nothing changed.  I'd get down to 155 occasionally, see I still had the same fat, and get discouraged and go back up to 170.

I have a weight problem.

I got a personal trainer - an ex-Olympian from Germany.  I told him my history, and we tried everything he could think of for 6 months.  I'd get a little stronger, but I never built up any muscle definition or changed body composition much.  He finally just told me he thought something might be biologically wrong with me and recommended I talk to my doctor.  I said goodbye to him and had tests done; testosterone was slightly low, but everything else was fine.

I have a weight problem.

I changed jobs at 33, and moved just after my 34th birthday.  The new place had a gym, a swimming pool, and was "walkable" to everything.  I also had more space, so I bought some exercise equipment that the gym didn't have.  I talked to my new doctor, explained what I was planning to try, and he said he saw no issue with it.  So I started a routine of pretty much zero cardio/aerobics other than walks around the neighborhood (running had always been my staple).  I focused entirely on weights - free and machines - and "resistance training".  The day I noticed, for the first time ever, that I was getting some arm definition, I nearly cried.

I have a weight problem.

I've tried various supplements - I've got access to medical journals and always look to see what the ingredients have published; I've never noticed any difference with any of them.  I've used science-based reasoning on selecting protein shakes and vitamins.  I've since added some yoga and started doing a bit of aerobics (I still hike and walk a lot anyway).  I've also switched mostly to body weight exercises, though I'm starting to add some freeweights back into the mix.  Today, I have a slightly defined chest and am building up my arms a bit.  I've got some visible abs, though they're mostly still under a fair bit of body fat.  And that paunch is still there under my belly button, though it's slightly smaller.

I have a weight problem.

I still don't feel like "me", like how my brain thinks I should look - but I'm closer.  My pants hang off my hips rather than off my stomach.  My shirts hang off my chest slightly.  T-shirts that used to be loose have started getting a little tight in the sleeves.

But I look in the mirror and still don't like what I see.  I don't know that I'll ever like what I see.  I don't know that I'll ever like what I see.  I don't want to be a muscled jock - I don't even like the look.  Mostly, what I want is that belly fat gone, to see a little bit of abs and definition in my stomach.  That's the holy grail at this point, and I know it'll probably never happen.

I also know, intellectually, that I'm the healthiest that I've ever been: I've weighed less, but I've never had more lean mass or strength, and my endurance is probably as high as it ever was.  None of that "matters", though, if I still feel like a stranger in my body and in the mirror.

Every time I look in the mirror, I have have to push back the "just lose weight" feelings.  I know, from long experience, that there's a thin window of calories I need to consume in order to maintain muscle but not add weight - I have to stick between about 1200 and 1700 a day, with a lot of that being protein.  I know, from long experience, that my body "wants" to maintain a weight between 160 and 170, and that any attempt to push below this would have to be unhealthy.  I know, from long experience, that the only way I'm ever going to get to where I want to be is by eating normally and using exercise to drive the weight changes I want (both gaining and losing) and that this is a very slow process.  I know, from reading and study and experience with others, that anorexia and bulimia and other weight disorders are very real things and that I don't want to go anywhere near them.

But that doesn't make it any easier to look in the mirror.

I have a weight problem, and it's in my head.

I'm not writing this for sympathy or compassion: I'm me (that's humor, in case you missed it, but also mostly true).  I don't need support; I've got a handle on these issues and have been controlling them for about a year now.  I don't need - and don't want - "but you're hot/cute/sexy" comments; honestly, those tend to be more counter-productive than helpful, because all they do is reinforce the notion that physical build is a central component of attractiveness.  But this kind of thing needs to be talked about.  It was only in the last couple of years that I finally realized I had a weight problem - a mental weight problem - and that this was driving otherwise unhealthy behavior, and it was only accepting that fact that has helped me build healthy habits.

I'm posting this so that other guys reading here can know that if they feel the same way, they're not alone. Only 5% of men have eating disorders, but 42% of men with eating disorders identify as gay.  By the math, that means that almost a quarter of the gay male population. Gay or otherwise, unhealthy body image or food habits don't make you weak or a failure.  But it is something that you can fight against, and if you need someone to fight alongside you, there are resources to do so.

Some light reading:
Eating disorders in diverse lesbian, gay, and bisexual populations. "Results: Gay and bisexual men had significantly higher prevalence estimates of eating disorders than heterosexual men. There were no differences in eating disorder prevalence between lesbian and bisexual women and heterosexual women, or across gender or racial groups. Attending a gay recreational group was significantly related to eating disorder prevalence in gay and bisexual men." [Emphasis mine]
Eating Disorder Center of Denver
A Hidden Epidemic