“Okay Nicole,” I told her, “you’re going down,” with an air of misguided bravado. Nicole let out a slight smile and was quiet as she placed her elbow on the padded bench her forearm poised her hand in an open grip. Bam! Over. You know those cameras that capture hummingbird wings flapping around a flower? Well, you needed one of those to capture Nicole’s victory in all its glory. What really was upsetting was her “In your face” taunts afterwards that rang through the gym as if from a cracked tin bell. It was briefly after this first humiliation that I was dealt with yet another.
While driving in the car with my youngest daughter she told me I should start working out. “But honey,” I said “I have been. In fact I go to the gym four to five times a week.” She couldn’t believe her ears and asked “Then why are you still fat?” I went on to tell her that stomachs are naturally round in nature. Flat stomachs are an oddity. Just look at our cousins, the orangutan. Besides, I added, I have a six-pack of abs. I just prefer to keep them in a cooler where they belong.
Let’s face facts. Most of us aren’t cut and can’t get cut to the point where strangers (and sometimes loved ones) want to look at us. It’s a myth perpetrated by the film industry using high tech computer software, a good deal of makeup, digital imaging and androids. These ‘humans’, if that’s what they really are, have it in their contracts to be shirtless in every movie they appear. Its reverse sex discrimination and I for one am very offended.
Movies are an escape. Instead they have become a sadistic minefield, selling buttered popcorn while images of superior body types flash before my wife’s eyes. Well, I won’t let them do that to her. I refuse to see any movie with George Clooney, Ryan Reynolds, Ryan Gosling, Mark Wahlberg, Taylor Lautner (to be honest I wouldn’t see him in any movie), Brad Pitt, Josh Brolin, Hugh Jackman, Matt Damon, or Daniel Craig. Consequently, as a result of my boycott, I miss a lot of movies. But more importantly, they make me sick. From now on I only take my wife to films that star Paul Giamatti or Steve Buscemi. And who wouldn’t want to see a Philip Seymour Hoffman, or a Clint Howard in a romantic comedy? How about a remake of Valentine’s Day where a shirtless Drew Carey makes out with Linda Hunt? It may still suck, but I could leave the theatre feeling good about myself for a change.
Instead of excessive dieting and exercise what we need is a new spokesman for this generation. What Telly Savalas did for bald men in the seventies, Jack Black could do for the heavy weights now. Instead of ‘Bald is Beautiful’ (although come to think of it I could use that too), we can have ‘Pretty in Portly’, or maybe ‘Fat is Phat’. There was a period when beautiful starlets such as Nicole Kidman and Charlize Theron donned ugly makeup for roles. I’m issuing a challenge to all those actors out there. If Salma Hayek is brave enough to wear a unibrow, why can’t Matt Damon? What’s the matter pretty boy? Afraid? Come on Hollywood, what about us regular guys?
"Who Loves Ya Baby"
An unrelated Harvester 1-12-12