There are roughly three main body types in the population. They are known as Ectomorphs, Mesomorphs and Endomorphs.
To help you visualize what an ectomorph looks like, think of the physique that Olive Oyl had in the old Popeye cartoons.
She was tall and slender. She had little body fat and no curves. I looked a lot like her before I started lifting weights (except that I was never tall). In the days before my love affair with the gym started, I was very slight. As a matter of fact my friends made up a poem about me. It went, “Lynnie is skinny from too little dinny.” Yes, we were an incredibly talented and creative bunch!
Thinking about body types brought to mind a post I wrote a couple of years ago. I thought I’d share it here.
Reasons I’ll Never Have a Swelled Head
A while ago, I picked up my boys from school. I waited for them out front then walked them down the hill to the car. As I bent my legs to get in, I felt that particular soreness that only heavy squats can bring. “Ow, ow, ow” I muttered as I slid into the seat. My older boy, ever the sweet and compassionate child piped up. “What hurts now?” I explained that my legs were complaining and told him proudly about my fantastic leg day and how happy I was because I’d managed a personal best for the dreaded squats. He wanted to know how much weight I had used. I told him and he retorted “Oh mom, that’s so pathetic! Mike can do so much better than that!” The Mike he was referring to happens to be a Bodyspace friend who is a completely amazing , freak of a human being…a true gym beast. I laughed because the comparison was so outrageous and went on to explain that there was no way for me to squat like Mike. “First of all” I said, “I’m a woman. Not only that, I’m a small woman…slender with little bones….kind of like a fairy or a sprite. Matter of fact” I went on, “there is a name for my body type. I’m what’s called an Ectomorph!” Right then, my little one piped up from the back seat. “What did she say? What is she?” His brother turned to him and said “She thinks she’s a fairy…or a sprite or an…an…Ectodwarf!” They both burst out laughing and I had to listen to chants of “Mommy is an Ectodwarf” all the way home.
In case you were wondering, they haven’t forgotten it. Just last night my older boy leaned over the banister to call his brother for dinner. “The Ectodwarf says come up here…it’s time to eat!” It’s not funny, not funny at all! They can’t remember to take out the garbage or bring in the milk but they can sure remember that! Geez…