Do ya think I'm sexy?

The play was called Cooking With Elvis, and if you ever get a chance to see it I urge you to do so. It's hilarious and moving in equal measure. And you'll see a man get his cock out. Who could ask for more?



In a couple of month’s time, I will be in a play that will find me onstage and as naked as the day I was born. Naturally, were it not for the fact that I'm so damned sexy, I'd be shitting my pants to the point of overflowing. And predictably enough, everyone whom I've told has asked "Aren't you embarrassed?". To which the answer is "No; should I be? Do I have anything to be embarrassed about? It's my body, I'm rather fond of it, and if other people want to come along and have a look at it...well, more power to 'em!"

But, me being me, all those blushing and giggling questioners did set me off thinking; why do we seem to have such a huge hang up on body image in our society? Especially where women are concerned, but increasingly with men as well. I mean, we live in a time when the NHS farts and collapses every time there is a flu epidemic, but where men can also have operations to implant fake muscles into their chests. I'm a first class pervert, and am the first to admit that I have no problem with silicon breasts. But silicone pecs...is it just me, or does that seem like vanity taken to the point of parody?

Everyone, men and women, seems to feel that they are under increasing pressure to have a certain shaped body, a particular size waist, a specific weight range. Why is this? As far as I can see, it seems to be down to insecurity about ourselves and the way we look. But when did self-centred vanity become the accepted way to express this insecurity? Did we, as a society, inch slowly towards that all by ourselves? Or did we receive a helping hand along the way?

Naturally, when looking for something to blame for a fault in society, we will turn our attention to the media. The media gets a lot of bad press (if you'll pardon the pun) in this regard; I'm sure everyone is familiar with the somewhat schizophrenic approach taken by the print media towards body image. On page 4 we will be told of the anguish caused by the increase in anorexia and bulimia among young women, and what could perhaps be done to stop it. Then page 5 will, in scandalised tones, launch an epic flurry of claws and handbags at whichever celebrity happens to have been snapped with his/her stomach being anything less than washboard flat.

In the past, I've always had the same opinion when it comes to criticising any media for what they do; if you don't like it, don't read or watch it. There's not exactly a dearth of newspapers, lifestyle magazines, TV, or radio programs to choose from, so choose one more to your liking. After all, we're adults and are capable of making our own choices. That is still my opinion, but I have had cause to add a caveat to it; sometimes we have no choice in the matter. Sometimes something permeates so many different parts of the media on so many levels that we're left with little option but to be aware of it. There can't be many people in the UK who remain blissfully unaware of the continuing saga of Victoria Beckham, her appearance, her weight, and her husband (and anyone who has stayed unaware is a lucky, lucky bastard...). However, just because we are all aware of something, doesn't mean we have to actually pay any attention to it, or give it any credence.

(As a side note, I should really confess that I've found myself modifying my opinions of films or albums based on favourable write-ups in magazines. Curiously, I'm not really ashamed to admit that...maybe that's just because I've never read a magazine that's told me I should be)

The thing is though, if it is the media, then why do we go out and buy or watch the image-obsessed dross that is cluttering up newsagents and TV stations? I mean, they wouldn't be successful if we had no interest in them, yet we weekly spend a sum equivalent to the third world national debt on ladmags/'lifestyle' mags (as women insist on calling the froth that fills the pages of Cosmo et al)/scandal rags. It seems odd that the media gets so much of the blame for our growing obsession with body image, when one could build a convincing case that they are merely responding to what the public wants.

Which leads us to the obvious question; why is this what the public want? Why do we want the perfect body, even at the expense of having a remotely enjoyable life. I mean, I've known a few people with eating disorders, and the misery that they caused themselves trying to sculpt their body to someone else’s idea of perfection far outweighed any misery they had felt for being overweight/ugly. To me, it seems bizarre that no-one stops to think "Hang on; I only weigh as much as a packet of crisps now, I have hunger pains all the time, and my body chemistry is completely screwed due to malnutrition. Hmm...yeah, I must be happy with my weight!".

I'm taking the proverbial to an extent there; eating disorders are a mental illness, and expecting someone to think logically about anything when in the throes of mental illness is unreasonable of me. Couldn't we therefore say that society's body image hang up is a widespread form of mental illness? Well...perhaps, but not everyone with an obsession over body image ends up with an eating disorder. So perhaps it is a mistake for me to think of this hang up of society as something to be diagnosed and then treated.

I'm starting to ramble more than usual, so I shall draw things to a close now. And as per usual, I find that I've raised more questions in my own head than have been answered. The one thing I remain sure of, and hope I've gone some way to impressing on you, is that society is spending a disproportionate amount of its time being concerned with what is not much more than petty vanity. Surely we're all better than that.

Aren't we?