by Paul Stanley
What we exude, and what others see, is usually a product of what’s inside us. I’m not the person I was five years ago. And certainly I’m not the person I was thirty years ago. I’m happier, more content, more likeable.
It’s hard to be likeable when we’re unhappy. Someone may take pity on us and, for their own reason, want to befriend us because it makes them feel better about themselves. I call that the Florence Nightingale syndrome. Some people like to find a person who’s in worse shape than they are because it makes them feel better about themselves—it’s comforting in an odd way, I guess.
Yet when someone is happy, people just want to be around that person—and perhaps want to know why they’re happy.
15
Vanity Isn’t Narcissism
The better physical shape we’re in, the better prepared we are to take on other aspects of our lives. When I’m in shape, I have better relationships. When I have better relationships, I eat better. These are all mini-mountains we can scale, and success at one motivates us to tackle the next.
Nobody wants to see a fat guy in tights. That fact first occurred to me shortly after I turned thirty. I still looked fit because of all the shows we played, which were physically and aerobically demanding. But cholesterol runs high in my family—I look at a steak and my cholesterol goes up. Growing up, the basic food groups were meat, cheese, whole milk, and eggs. Both my mom and dad had coronary bypasses, and my grandmother died of heart disease back when it was routinely a death sentence.
So I realized I would probably have to work at staying in shape going forward.
In the early 1980s, TV fitness gurus were all the rage. So, grasping at straws, I got a number for a guy who had a show called Body by Jake. It was the era of Arnold Schwarzenegger’s ascent in Hollywood, and Jake was built like a brick shithouse. I didn’t want to look like that, but I called him to see about training. At some point during the conversation he said, “I’m going to make you hurt!” And I thought, Why would I pay somebody to make me hurt? Even then I knew that we don’t measure how fit we are by how much we hurt—I can’t walk, so, boy, I must be doing great.
He wasn’t the guy for me.
Fortunately a friend of mine then referred me to another trainer named Michael Romanelli. He asked me what kind of shape I was in. I kind of scoffed and told him I was in better shape than 98 percent of the population. Once I truly started to get in shape, I realized that if I was in better shape than 98 percent of the population, the rest of the population was teetering on the edge of death. The good thing, though, was that Michael showed me there was really no secret to getting in shape. There was no need for a gym. No need for expensive equipment. Up to then, I had the common misperception that we need to rely on externals and intimidation by people who supposedly know more than we do and who get us to buy things or subscribe to things or sign up for things we really don’t need. Bricklayers don’t spend time in the gym. They lift bricks. Lifting your own weight is effective. Crunches don’t take anything. So this can be broken down into something that’s doable for everybody. With that in mind, I got in great shape.
That was thirty years ago. I’m in uncharted territory at this point: if you’d have told me back then that I’d still be running around in a spandex jumpsuit today, I would have asked what you were smoking. I won’t tell you I’m the same person now that I was then. Nobody is immune to aging. Can I do as much onstage now as I once did? I would have to say no. But I do a lot. And I do far more than people in most other bands, even bands whose members are twenty-five years old, not sixty-five. To be in shape now validates my life and the quality of my life. To be onstage and feel relatively ageless is exhilarating. So these days, more than ever, I feel an intense desire to exercise. In fact, if I don’t, it bothers me. Because when I do, I know that I’ve done my part.
Once you get started, the rewards of taking care of yourself continue to motivate you. When I first started working out, I didn’t realize how out of shape I was until a few days into a workout when my body was really in shock. But that passes, and there’s nothing more motivating than results.
After four weeks of working out, I looked in the mirror and got it. I understood what it was all about.
When you start working out, it’s easy to wonder why you’re doing it—there’s the soreness and the inconvenience and the time it takes away from your day. But once you see results, whether that means losing pounds or inches or just feeling better, you want to do it more. I remember about a month in, I started to see and feel a difference. And I just wanted to keep going. It became something I put on my calendar and was nonnegotiable. It became time I wouldn’t let be taken away for meetings or social events. It was my time. And it no longer seemed like a chore. It was more like an adventure.
In addition, endorphins are one of the strongest drugs in the world. When our endorphins are flowing, our minds are clearer. When our bodies feel fit and our minds are clear, we feel ready to take on the world. I’ve had times when I felt I could lift a building. Luckily I wasn’t stupid enough to hurt my back and try, but there is a sense of being capable of anything.
Working out has become a priority in my life, knowing that anything I do to make myself better will ultimately help me in everything else I do. It became part of my commitment to bettering myself. One effective way to feel good about ourselves is to be in shape. It not only changes the chemistry of our bodies, it also changes how we view our bodies and ourselves more generally. It’s all-encompassing. For me, it’s also necessary. It requires a discipline to maintain who I am onstage, though quite honestly I’m vain enough to want to do it for myself, quite apart from how it helps me perform. A good friend of mine once wrote in a book that I was terribly vain. I thought, How can I be terribly vain? You’re either vain or you’re not—and I’m vain.
So I said to him, “I’m not terribly vain. I’m vain.”
You’re dead or you’re not dead.
Being vain is different from being narcissistic. The whole basis of narcissism is the story of Narcissus wasting away or drowning by becoming obsessed with his own reflection. Well, that’s a serious negative. But nobody should confuse narcissism and vanity. I’m proud to be vain. Who doesn’t want to look their best?
Meanwhile, I don’t want to waste away or drown.
As I learned how to stay in shape, I also realized there is more to it than just eating well and exercising. If all we gain is muscle mass, we gain nothing. If we are not working our minds and our hearts, we wind up being a car without an engine. It’s great to start off a day reflecting on what we have done and what we want to accomplish or how we want to take on the world. And when we go to sleep, when we are lying in bed, we should be in a position to be grateful for the day gone by and to thank ourselves or whatever higher power we believe in for a valuable day of experience and another day spent getting closer to our goals.
I don’t want to sound like Yoda, but our body and mind need to work in harmony. If we want to experience a life of the highest quality, making the most of all its possibilities, we need to take care of not only our bodies, but our minds, our souls. Ultimately, nothing will make us feel better about the world than helping it. Nothing will make us feel better about people than helping them. Generosity of spirit is necessary to live a positive life. I wake up every day and have a thought for what I want to get out of the day; at the end of the day I know I accomplished that goal or worked toward it. Without that, life is empty no matter what shape we’re in.
Process leads to the completion of goals in life. It’s all about process. We can’t get from point A to point B without taking the first step. So the process—boring as it may seem—is actually exhilarating. I’m far from obsessed with working out. But it’s necessary to elevate my quality of life. Committing to staying in shape also reinforces my ability to do something that I’m not always all that enthused about doing. But I know the process will lead to looking better, feeling better onstage, and standing taller.
> Of course, we should never do anything until we’re ready to do it 100 percent. There have been times when I didn’t work out for a year. I wouldn’t do that now, but I don’t believe in doing things half-assed. If you’re not going to commit yourself to something, then don’t do it at all. When you’re ready, jump in.
I’m not saying we have to devote all our energy to one thing. But we have to give 100 percent to whatever we’re doing at any moment. Otherwise what’s the point? If we read a book and we don’t really focus on it, we have to read it again.
One of the motivating factors for this book came from the fact that I wish somewhere along the line somebody in my life had been more of a peer than a steroided-up muscle freak guiding me to good health. Honestly, even when I had trainers, it became apparent to me that how a trainer looks is a very clear reflection of how that trainer thinks you should look. That’s key: if a trainer looks like he shits muscles, unless that’s what you want to look like, you’re with the wrong person.
My tendency is to get thick and bulky, so it’s important for me to be careful not to lift heavy weights. And it was hard to explain that to a trainer. A few trainers would say, “Yeah, yeah, I understand.” Then all of a sudden I’m looking in the mirror and seeing Lou Ferrigno.
At one point Bill Aucoin said to me, “You’re not supposed to look like that,” which is to say, my body had started to look like I was going to shave my chest and douse myself with baby oil.
So it’s a matter of knowing from experience and then putting your foot down and saying, “This is what I’ll do, and this is what I won’t do.” If you want a trainer, find one who looks like how you want to look—because that’s how a trainer is going to try to make you look.
Body image is like anything else: it’s personal. There’s no right or wrong in terms of what you think looks good. I just happen to want my arms to touch my sides.
These days the heaviest weight I lift—ever—is ten pounds. As a rule, it’s more like two or three pounds. And yet I’ve got the body I want—because of the repetitions. Unless you want to become Mr. America or star as Hercules, you want to work your muscles with repetitions, not heavy weights.
A lot of people make the same mistake I did—pushing themselves to see how heavy a dumbbell they can lift. Sometimes the dumbbell is the person trying to lift the dumbbell. It’s just that to most people—and to me in the beginning—the concept of high reps and low weights seems at odds with the idea of building muscle. But what we actually want to achieve is muscle fatigue. And muscle fatigue can come from either lifting a heavy weight a few times or lifting a light weight many times. I had to come to that realization.
Male bodybuilders tend to look like freaks in a suit because their lats are too big. They look like you put clothes on a gorilla. I remember my trainer, who had been a competitive bodybuilder, said the guy who wins a bodybuilding contest is the least healthy guy. The coming onto the scene of steroids and human growth hormones turned something that in theory was valid into something grotesque. Bodybuilding was initially a healthy approach to working out. Now, unfortunately, it’s just a freak show. And it’s not because of the workouts; it’s because of how they’re enhancing the workouts. When guys like that put on a suit, they look—I feel bad saying this—like they’re trying to take a shit. Their necks look like they’re about to explode.
I have always thought: I don’t want to look like that.
Forget about competing in a Speedo. We have to wear clothes, and those body types don’t look very good in clothes. I don’t want to hurt anybody’s feelings. This is just my take. But with few exceptions, when most people see us for the first time, we’re clothed. So how our clothes fit and how they drape is a concern—even a priority. How do we look in clothes? Getting out of them is a bonus. But we don’t get a chance to get out of them with somebody unless first we’re accepted when we’re in them.
It’s not what we accomplish lifting; it’s how we lift and how we put the weight down. It’s the control of the motion. That’s how to get in shape. We get more out of the muscles when we use them from the beginning of a movement to the end. Lifting a weight is half of it. Bringing it down is the other half. And I’d rather do fifty curls with a five-pound weight than do five with a fifty-pound weight.
I’ve been doing the same workout for ten-plus years, and I have to say that when I found what I’m doing now, this cardio barre workout, I knew I’d found an all-encompassing workout. I don’t even have to alter it when I’m preparing for a tour. I try to do it three or four times a week—not because I have to but because it feels great. It involves doing crunches, lifting light weights, doing extensions with my legs, twisting. Like anything else, when you find something you love—in my case an exercise regimen that I enjoy—it’s more gratifying than debilitating.
There may be some hills and there may be some valleys, but once someone has the right plan, it goes back to what I say over and over: we’ll be able to determine how important something is to us by how hard we’re willing to work to achieve it. It’s about determination.
Once we’re ready to do it, it’s pretty easy.
And fortunately it’s never too late to get in shape. It’s all relative. When somebody says that you look great for fifty, it doesn’t mean you look great for thirty. And why should it? Looking great for fifty is enough in itself. Being in shape has made all the difference for me no matter how old I am.
Nobody can kid you and tell you that they’re the same person they used to be. I’m not. But a seasoned fighter throws fewer punches while making each punch count. I make sure everything I do has impact—I’ve become a wiser fighter.
We all have to let go of any preconceived ideas we have about what getting older means, because that’s usually based on a child’s perception. It’s not based on reality. It’s based on what we supposed our parents were like at a given age. We somehow believed that our parents had all the answers. Then once we become parents, we realize that we’re still kids trying to figure it all out.
At this point, being in shape validates my life and the quality of my life.
It’s interesting to have young fans come to KISS shows and be blown away by how I look physically. And I’ve definitely seen wives elbow their husbands while mouthing, “He’s older than you are!”
But there’s no secret to it. And it’s not an obsession. Or a chore. I can remember a time when I thought that people who worked out a lot had some kind of compulsion or almost a weakness that made them do it. But done the right way, it’s neither of those things.
I didn’t get to where I am overnight, but I’m here to tell you: once that engine is turned on and those pistons are chugging, there’s no telling how long you can keep it on the road.
As you know, I’ve got three kids younger than age fifteen; I’ve met many of my friends through those kids. And that means that a lot of them are fifteen or twenty years younger than I am.
Most can’t keep up with me.
We all play beat the clock and lose. Time always wins. But we can fight it in a way that’s not embarrassing. We have to let go of preconceived notions about what it means to get older. And there’s certainly no shame in trying to stay young.
I for one don’t mind getting older, but I don’t want to get old.
And so far it’s working. KISS is still touring, hitting dozens of countries on five continents in recent years. The annual KISS Kruise has so far attracted fans from thirty-three countries. The KISS Army—and now Navy—is alive and well: what started out as a protest in front of a radio station in Terre Haute, Indiana, by kids upset that the disc jockeys wouldn’t play the KISS songs they wanted to hear is now several generations deep. And all of this is possible because I can still perform at the physical level our shows demand.
Part of what keeps KISS immortal is that, for all intents and purposes, we look the same. We maintain the illusion.
I may not be ageless, but I am happy.
16
Pr
ide in What We Do Is Pride in Who We Are
I’m not a risk-taker. I don’t skydive. Why would I go up thousands of feet in the air and jump out when I’m already on the ground? That doesn’t make sense to me. I’ve never thought I needed to risk my life to prove I’m alive.
But I do like ice cream—despite my family’s cholesterol problem. In the 1980s—as I entered my thirties—I went to a doctor to have my levels checked for the first time in my life, and he said, “You can never eat ice cream again.”
I said, “You’re talking to the wrong guy.”
Life doesn’t work that way.
I don’t want to eat a protein bar that tastes like Silly Putty and carpet shavings. Being healthy and eating fairly well doesn’t have to mean compromising taste. Too many people see food as just fuel or an excuse to have an hour off from work. It’s true that feeding ourselves is something we have to do several times a day, day in and day out. But it can be transformed into a positive aspect of our lives.
Food can be a sensory treat. It has aesthetic beauty. You can experience a meal. You can enjoy a meal. In America, though, we tend to shove food into our mouths like garbage. It’s regarded as fuel as opposed to something worth savoring.
The thing is, it’s something we have to do anyway—and elevating a daily necessity like that is edifying. By changing the experience, we change how we see ourselves.
I say: cook like you give a damn! It’s another way to take pride in doing something right.
Anything worth doing is worth doing well. There’s no point in attempting something without committing ourselves to it fully. Otherwise we sabotage the potential for it to succeed, and we also sabotage the potential for it to give us all that it can. We can only get out of something as much as we put into it. That means children. That means relationships. That means exercise. And that means food.