Why six-packs are evil

I have nothing against being healthy. In fact, I recommend it. Being healthy will be beneficial when the world crashes and we have to chase each other for food. Apocalypse is coming and hunting tins of juicy pears will reward those with greater endurance. And people with can-openers. Ironically, when that catastrophe occurs, six-packs will be the new trend. A factor of necessity. Being lean follows disaster. The collapse of gluttonous food eco-systems will reduce our daily intake of calories. Our constant movements to avoid zombies and hunt in the next wild supermarket will expend a lot of energy. Yes, if you want a six-pack, you’ll enjoy Armageddon. It’s practically impossible to exist on hunting and foraging and be overweight. Modern consumerism and automation have given us ample time to forget what a six-pack is. A six-pack is as natural as a sunrise. But we’ve smothered it in clouds of donuts, sugar, fats and plain old excess. The coming of the new zombie dawn will cure you.

I’ll get the boring physiology out of the way first. The abdominal wall (Abdominus Rectus) is banded and sectioned in basic appearance. We all have a six-pack. It’s just hidden. Flesh and bodyfat hide the physical structure. Any horror film where flesh is stripped from the body will gladly oblige your interest. Or this picture:

Beneath the skin, we’re all the same.

So, why is it evil? Well, it’s not. That’s just a dramatic title. But the pursuit of a six-pack is a path I’d not advocate. The principles are sound and extremely easy to understand. And, in fairness, it’s almost impossible not to get one, if you actually do the work. But that’s the catch. The effort and sacrifice required to achieve that narcissistic dream is phenomenal. The problem is that our bodies want to store fat. Just enough to keep as a reserve. And the level of body-fat required to reveal a six-pack is somewhere between very low and ‘hey, Barney, this guy’s dead’.

Someone went too far

There is a select group who may exhibit such torturously miniscule levels of fat—athletes. Specifically, athletes whose events/sports require a ludicrous performance to weight ratio. It’s unlikely you’ll ever see a sixteen stone high jumper (unless they’re twelve feet tall). Similarly, a sprinter needs explosive power to leave the blocks and gravity will gladly prove it loves a tubby load.

Why is it then, that in media, we gravitate to award plaudits to those with six-packs? And not the team who’s about to create a Coronavirus vaccine? Why are we obsessed with that level of body dysmorphia? Well, one guess. Marketing. Hollywood isn’t so bad these days in terms of throwing glistening bodies in your face. Unless, of course you watch some Michael Bay films. But really, it’s all down to a manufactured fascination, thrown onto our screens by serial frauds and those who wish to capitalise on your awful physical condition. For example, the report: Global Weight Management Market Report 2019: Industry Trends, Share, Size, Growth, Opportunity and Forecasts, 2011-2018 & 2019-2024, suggests the global worth of the weight management industry will be worth almost $270 billion by 2024. In comparison, analysts at Zion Market Research expect the global fast-food market share to exceed $690 billion in 2022. To put it in plain potatoes: for every $5 we spend on take-out we don’t need, we spend another $2 trying to perform damage limitation. Pure sadism.

Probably 1,000+ calories. Farewell my sweet six-pack

And that’s why six-packs are evil. You are the innocent victim in a war soon to be worth almost one trillion dollars. One side wants you to eat more (bad for six-packs), and the other side also wants you to eat more (of their awful low-calorie products). Stuck in the middle is exercise (globally worth about $75 billion). Now, admittedly, these are just numbers, but the market weight behind them mean you’re exposed to heinous amounts of misinformation and sugar-coating of the truths.

So, what is the truth? If you want a six-pack, prepare to lose friends because all you’ll do is talk about your new exercise routines and your diet of dang-dang berries and hummingbird milk. You’ll also start following several braindead Instagram ‘personalities’ (I choked just typing that). Chad Flexpec* and Anna Bolic* will grace your mobile screens with so much saturated flesh lunacy you’ll wish you could only see in black and white. But you’ll stick to your guns and cry into your Nepalese Goat wheat cereal as your last friend Ubers off to the pub. You’ll look in the mirror and think some phantom’s haunting your bathroom—but it’s you, because your face has collapsed. Everybody says you look great but you wonder why they’re always grimacing. Only your mum will tell you the truth. You look awful, she’ll say. And she’s right. But still, you soldier on, through bad moods and cravings. And you’ll get there. When all your real friends are out having fun, and your mother’s trying to have you institutionalised, you’ll see it. The six-pack. The product of vanity; the bottom of the barrel. But where do you go from here? You know where. To find your friends, apologise, and start being a good human being again.

^{* Once again, these people are figments, created for comedy effect. If they’re real, they shouldn’t be. And I’m sorry.}