I wasn't proud of my decision to buy a monstrous grilled chicken burrito for lunch, especially when it cost me the equivalent of four loads of laundry. But the convenience of walking down the street from my workplace to buy something that I, a South Texas native, consider comfort food was too enticing.

Plus, this place didn’t charge extra for guacamole—a Mexican Miracle, if you ask me.

Armed with my somewhat-affordable burrito brick, I slunk back into my office building and hid in the back of the elevator. I do't want anyone to judge my caloric choices now that shorts season had arrived. And I didn't want to feel a stranger stare at my soft middle, one that's not Fire Island-ready by most gay men's standards.

I hate that I spend every day trying to fall in love with my handles. Regardless of age, race, gender, sexuality, or economic background, it's difficult to have a genuine conversation about body image and the ideal figure. Even after years of self-reflection, I'm barely satisfied with my body, an insecurity amplified by my identification as a gay man. We're bombarded with images of ripped surfers and tight swimmers—the Buff Boys of Summer—who can afford to build and flaunt their hard work. The boys who've spending hours and hundreds of dollars at the gym. I just don't have that luxury.

And it is a luxury.

Resources are scarce for some of us, and that reality can threaten an already fragile sense of self that’s been damaged by a culture obsessed with beauty. A plush gym membership, along with any potential classes or private training, costs serious money. Yoga and Zumba twice a week would leave me both breathless and penniless. And what good would a spin class do me if the phone I'm using to show off my Groupon for it is shut off?

Here’s the truth: The pressures of competing with Tank Top Tops and Board Short Bottoms is real, especially for those of us trying to just stay afloat financially. How can we talk about achieving a fat-free summer bod when we're preoccupied with being debt-free? That's why you'll never see me shirtless at Provincetown or Fire Island, or any other queer hotspots. Not only am I unable to afford a weekend there, but I can't handle the parade of expensive bodies. Not this summer, at least.

I get that burritos aren’t helping. For instance, a well-dressed man and his equally fashionable colleagues entered the elevator holding plates of free food they’d received from an office lunch party. On the menu that day? A frisée salad, veggies, and grilled chicken, or the kind of meal I should’ve been eating—especially at that price.

But then I realized the well-dressed man, who I suspected of being a team player, was the only one without a plate. “Where’s your food?” his co-worker asked. “Gurl, I can't eat any of that if I'm gonna lose those five pounds I need for my summer bod,” he snapped back.

I glared at him. Did you really just turn down free, healthy food, while I’m over here rubbing pennies (and inner thighs)?

Food can be the greatest expense of all: Maintaining a specific diet to help with weight control can be unachievable depending on your job, location, and schedule. I don't have $17 for a grilled salmon dinner. Why do you think I’m a regular at Wendy’s? Because I can scrounge together $6—and fries are included.

It's trying to prioritize fitness (and healthy eating) when bills are piling up faster than I can run. Yes, there are cheaper, accessible alternatives out there, but that usually means fewer machines and larger crowds. After a long day at work, who has time to deal with it, let alone on a consistent enough basis to see results?

I'm sure it's possible to successfully do crunches and crunch the numbers.There are fit, financially savvy people out there who I’d love to have teach me their ways. But at some point, we still have to recognize that summer bods are part of a rather costly game gay men play to win the love and admiration of others.

Validation comes at a heavy price, y'all, and it does not accept EBT.