Body image

Why can’t I sleep at night,
Don’t say it’s gonna be alright,
I wanna be able to eat spaghetti bolognese,
and not feel bad about it for days and days and days.
In the magazines they talk about weight loss,
If I buy those jeans I can look like Kate Moss,
I know it’s not the life I chose,
But I guess that’s the way that things go

Body image issues. Everyone has ’em at one time or another. I had ’em today.

I was at the barbershop, waiting for him to get all prettied up, and – for lack of anything better to do – I picked up one of those girlie magazines that littered the place. On the cover was Angel Locsin in a black bikini, showing off her boobs and flat tummy. As I picked the magazine up, I felt this urge to run screaming for the nearest body-repair shop and plop down my life’s savings for a boob job! Jeeeezus.

The rest of the night, my peripheral vision was on overdrive. I was checking other women out and trying to guess whether they had the real deal or the enhanced model; whether those lovely lady lumps were actually filled-out bras or just really good underwire (Remember how when Julia Roberts won that Oscar for Erin Brockovich? Nearly everyone was saying that it was her bra that should’ve won the Best Supporting Oscar. LOL). My ogling got so bad, apparently, that he actually asked me if I was turning lesbo; and that if I was, he was totally supportive. Needless to say, that was the last time we talked tonight.

Guys don’t get it. When you have to grapple with the size of your dinks, you can do it in private! Your inadequacy – if that’s how you feel about it – is tucked away neatly under clothing, where no one can notice it. We, on the other hand, wear our inadequacies up front and center for all the world to notice. I swear, when you’re in the grip of body image issues, it truly feels like everyone is checking your hooters out and judging them! It’s like wearing a huge blinking marquee on your chest screaming “Look at us! Want a tape measure?!”

Plus, you jokers don’t have to worry about love handles and beer guts! I mean, you can at least joke that the bulk makes you a good hug. Girls can’t get away with that! It’s either you have an hourglass figure, or you’re a bloody grandfather clock; and you hear things like, “don’t worry, you still a coca-cola figure … only it’s a coke-in-can.” And don’t even get me started with the thunder thighs. Grr.

And to top it all off, there’s this grand unfairness that guys actually get better looking as they grow older. Women, it’s all downhill from 18. You can talk the Oprah-talk about how older women have a glow or an allure or something that younger chicks can’t match. HAH! It’s called wrinkles. It’s called sag. And that glow? That’s the soft-fuckin’-focus that we need to disguise the fact that the second law of thermodynamics is taking its toll.

I got the blues bad. Amazing what Angel Locsin does to me.

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Filed under: vacuity, angel locsin, body image