Let me start with a confession: I’ve never been a fan of the gym. The clang of weights, the judgmental stares, the relentless pursuit of a ‘perfect’ physique—it all feels like a pressure cooker. But then there’s Richard Simmons. The man didn’t just sell fitness; he sold fun. His infamous quote—‘Number one, like yourself. Number two, you have to eat healthy. And number three, you’ve got to squeeze your buns’—isn’t just a punchline. It’s a manifesto for a kinder, more human approach to health. And honestly? It’s something we all need to hear again today.
Simmons’ genius wasn’t in the science of calorie counts or the intricacies of muscle fibers. It was in the emotional framework he built around fitness. He didn’t ask you to hate your body and then ‘fix’ it. Instead, he said, ‘Start by liking yourself.’ That’s not just a feel-good mantra—it’s a radical act of defiance against a culture that equates self-worth with appearance. Think about it: How many of us have stared into the mirror, critiquing our flaws, and then felt worse about ourselves? Simmons flipped the script. His message was clear: Your body is not a problem to solve. It’s a home to cherish. And if you start there, everything else—nutrition, movement, energy—falls into place.
But let’s not mistake humor for fluff. That ‘squeeze your buns’ line isn’t just a joke. It’s a masterclass in making exercise accessible. Simmons knew that if you make fitness sound like a chore, people will avoid it. If you make it sound like a game, they’ll play along. His workouts were a riot of dance moves, funky music, and exaggerated enthusiasm. He turned sweat sessions into celebrations. And here’s the kicker: It worked. People loved him. Why? Because he made them feel seen, not judged. In an era where fitness influencers often prioritize aesthetics over joy, Simmons’ legacy is a reminder that movement should be about feeling alive, not looking like a magazine cover.
Now, let’s talk about the elephant in the room: sustainability. Simmons’ formula—self-acceptance, nutrition, and movement—doesn’t rely on quick fixes or extreme diets. It’s about building habits that stick. And that’s where the real magic happens. How many of us have tried a ‘detox’ or a ‘bootcamp’ only to quit after a week? Simmons’ approach is refreshingly simple. It’s not about perfection; it’s about progress. Eating a salad once in a while? That’s enough. Taking a walk instead of scrolling on your phone? That’s a win. The key is consistency, not intensity. And honestly? That’s the only way any of us will survive the long haul.
What’s fascinating is how Simmons’ philosophy intersects with modern mental health discourse. Today, we’re finally starting to understand that self-care isn’t just about bubble baths and face masks. It’s about nurturing your entire being—mind, body, and spirit. Simmons got this decades ago. His emphasis on self-acceptance wasn’t just about looks; it was about cultivating resilience. When you stop hating your body, you stop fighting it. And when you stop fighting it, you start listening to it. You notice when you’re tired, when you’re hungry, when you need to move. That’s not just fitness—it’s lifestyle.
So here’s the thing: Simmons’ message is more relevant now than ever. We live in a world obsessed with instant results, where social media sells the idea that you can ‘transform’ yourself overnight. But the truth is, real change takes time. It takes patience. It takes a little bit of love—for yourself, for your body, for the process. Simmons didn’t just teach people how to work out. He taught them how to live better. And if we could all remember that, maybe we’d stop chasing unattainable ideals and start celebrating the small, messy, glorious acts of self-care that actually make us healthier, happier, and more resilient.
In the end, the ‘squeeze your buns’ line is just a footnote. The real lesson is in the first part: ‘Like yourself.’ That’s not a suggestion. It’s a command. And if we follow it, everything else falls into place.
