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85 pages

English

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A no-holds-barred chronicle meets self-help guide from the bestselling author, rapper, artist, and chef Action Bronson From the New York Times bestselling author, chef-turned-rapper, and host of Viceland's F*ck, That's Delicious and The Untitled Action Bronson Show, F*ck It, I'll Start Tomorrow is a brutally honest chronicle about struggles with weight, food addiction, and the journey to self-acceptance. In his signature voice, Action Bronson shares all that he's learned in the past decade to help you help yourself. This isn't a road map to attaining a so-called perfect body. Instead, Bronson will share his journey to find confidence, keep the negative vibes at bay, stay sane, chill out, and not look in the mirror hoping to see anyone but yourself. F*ck It, I'll Start Tomorrow is not about losing weight-it's about being and feeling excellent regardless of your size or shape. It's about living f*cking healthy, period.

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Publié par	ABRAMS BOOKS
Date de parution	20 avril 2021
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781683359197
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,1010€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Editor: Holly Dolce
Designer: Heesang Lee
Production Manager: Anet Sirna-Bruder
Library of Congress Control Number: 2020944918
ISBN: 978-1-4197-4478-5
eISBN: 978-1-68335-919-7
Text copyright 2021 Action Bronson
Cover 2021 Abrams
Published in 2021 by Abrams Image, an imprint of ABRAMS.
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher.
Abrams Image books are available at special discounts when purchased in quantity for premiums and promotions as well as fundraising or educational use. Special editions can also be created to specification.
For details, contact specialsales@abramsbooks.com or the address below.
Abrams Image is a registered trademark of Harry N. Abrams, Inc.
ABRAMS The Art of Books 195 Broadway, New York, NY 10007 abramsbooks.com
Contents
New York City Made Me
The Toothbrush Incident
I Come from a Rebel Family
The Steroid Years
Explosion Movements
Fuck It, I ll Start Tomorrow
Ephiphany #1
Transcendental Breathing
Ten Years On
Turmoil Turns Me On: A Postscript
New York City Made Me
I ve always had a sick confidence. I ve always felt like I was six-foot-two and shredded, like I could literally do anything. Like I could field a baseball with a gazelle-like skill. Like I could run the forty-yard dash faster than any human on earth. Like I could score a touchdown at any time and smash a baseball into outer space
But in reality, I am not six-two. I am five-eight with stilts on. With stilts on, and wearing roller skates. And I ve been around two forty, two hundred seventy pounds for most of my life.
I honestly think my confidence comes from growing up being short and fucking husky-we don t like to say the fat word, we like to say husky-and having to jump and run with all different types of ethnicities on the basketball court in Flushing, Queens, where I grew up with kids that were skinnier and better than me at jumping and running. Those street games every morning at the courts outside our elementary school? I was just able to make it there. The kids were skinnier and better than me, but I still made it happen.
As a kid, even though I was short in stature and husky, I was very fast and pretty good at sports, and I had tremendous moxie for my size. I had a lot of strength, that kind of explosive power you can have at my shape and size. I was even scouted for weight lifting because I was good at squatting, I was good at bench pressing, shoulder pressing. And I was also good at baseball at a young age-I remember in Little League we won a couple of championships for sure. I just hit the ball in a really wild, powerful way, like a ton of bricks even off a tee. I used to jack home runs off the tee. And even with my shape, I used to be able to do cartwheels for fifty yards and then do a cartwheel into a roundoff. I bet I could still do a roundoff, even now. Plus, I was smart, and I could make people laugh.
Look at Mr. Perfect over here, right?
Mostly I am kidding. Mostly I am making fun of myself. But I m really just saying that I felt like I was gifted, like I was a special child. I held myself in that regard, like, Oh my god, you re different from others .
I think part of it is you got to spend time by yourself to know who you are. You have to be one with yourself to be confident, and trust in yourself, because basically what you have to do is not give a fuck what other people think about you, and not pay attention to what everybody else is saying. So to be confident, you literally have to know yourself. I m an only child, so I had lots of time to know myself by just being totally by myself. By the age of ten I was doing all kinds of things alone. I was chilling alone and taking the city bus alone. As an only child growing up in my part of Flushing, in the 1990s, you got to really fucking go in on yourself.
Part of it is also, I think you have to have confidence in whatever abilities you do have, and then you have to believe you can do other things, and then you just go for it-you gotta just think that you can do a cartwheel, and then you can.
So I was short and I was husky-I made sure I excelled at hanging out. I made sure I excelled at making people laugh. I made sure I excelled at playing handball with my friends. And being pretty good at those things gave me this type of feeling, like I m six feet tall. 1 I believed I could hit a shot from anywhere on a basketball court on anyone-it s obviously not true, but once you believe that thing, you start getting closer to doing it. I had a crazy jump shot in my consciousness. In my consciousness, my jump shot was 100 percent. Whether it s true or not, it helps to be able to tell yourself that, to be able to tell yourself that you re able to do these things. You got to kind of believe it if you want to do it, right? First you have to believe that you can, or believe that you re different, that you re special.
So that s why I say it was the New York City basketball court that made me. We would all play before we went into school, and we d all run out to it again at lunchtime. Everyone would be waiting at the door, like fucking dogs at the pound, then just run out to the court. This was at PS 200-that s where the basketball courts and handball courts and shit like that were in my neighborhood. We played basketball, or sometimes we just ran, we just ran after each other, trying to hit each other.
Think about little boys from all over the world playing in the schoolyard together, just running and doing, like, fighting moves in the air-not really hitting each other, but more like at each other, lots of weird Ninja Turtle-type kicks, that s what we would do. And it s Queens: it s a melting pot. After school I would go over to my friends houses, where it would be Indian, Spanish, Honduran food. You come over to my house, it s my nonna s Albanian food. Your eyes are open to a lot of new things early on, you re not really scared of anything right out of the box.
We also played in the park behind my mother s apartment building. We called it Tire Park because they used to have a dragon made out of old tires in the dirt back there. Tire Park was easy for everyone because we would stay there all day and night and our parents would just whistle for us when it was time to come home. For lunch, my nonna would call me in: Ariyan! She would just call my name right out the window. I d go home, and there d be her fresh bread that she d bake in nice smaller rounds so she could fit three or four in a basket. She always had her peppers and tomatoes. The feta and chicken and rice. She made food for me, she made it for everybody, she just made food all day long.
Let me tell you all the things I ve done in Tire Park over the years: I ve smoked weed. I ve drank beers. I ve gotten head. I ve played box ball, I ve played tag. I ve played baseball and samurai showdown, I ve been on the swings. I ve thrown up. I ve gone in the sprinklers, which aren t there anymore. I ve fucked in Tire Park. More than likely I had steroids on me at one point. I more than likely shot steroids in there, during my steroid years.
I ve hit all kinds of home runs in Tire Park, back when we used to play stickball or baseball with a tennis ball there. I loved stickball. I was an amazing fucking stickball pitcher and basher-that s when you just bash the ball, as in, a basher is a big hitter. I just made that word up, but I ve been bashing balls my whole life, mostly at the batting cages out on MTA land by JFK airport, where planes fucking fly right by you. I also remember up the block from my crib they d have a stickball league, and people would even bring beach chairs. It s a chill game, but it s still competitive, like softball.
You remember Skip It? If someone had that game when we were younger, we d play that in Tire Park, too. You d put the tetherball thing on a tie around your ankle and then you d skip it. I loved that. We played box ball, when you draw a fucking box on the ground-you know, draw a box and then you play tennis almost. The goal is to get into each other s box.
Girls 2 wouldn t really play basketball with us, not back then, but they would play handball. Everybody in Queens played handball: Chinese kids do it, Spanish kids do it. All Asians do it; they traditionally admire skill games that require focus, like ping-pong, and handball is that kind of skill game. I started playing handball when I was ten, eleven, twelve. During the summer, somebody would definitely come around the handball court with the icees, and maybe the ice cream truck would show up, also. Mister Softee had one side of the park, and the Good Humor truck came to the other side. Did I prefer one over the other? Depends on what time the mother-fucker came when I was wanting it-I don t have drug dealer preferences. If one guy has what I need, I might take that, and when the other guy calls back, I ll take that, too.
Over at the basketball and handball courts, you also always had the older heads around in the summertime-you know, they re forty years old, hanging out in the park smoking weed with fucking seventeen-year-olds. And they ve already been through some shit in life at only forty years old. That s when you learn you don t want to be that . Those dudes were fairly normal in Electchester, the apartment buildings where I grew up, because it was built for the electricians union and there would always be these fucking degenerates who used to be in the union who didn t work anymore.
They would be there smoking blunts in the park and playing handball with us, and drinking beers and shit-and they would just be part of the whole crew. They might have been cool to us then, but now you see they were just fucking old dudes that should ve been at the bar. They should have been wherever, just no