|
I am what I am: the direct descendent
of lanky genes
I am 6-feet, 2-inches tall, 74 inches if
you think that way, 188 cm if you're not an American, 155 pounds if I've
actually eaten much that day, 32-inch waist if you care, size 13 shoe and
incalculably gangly.
I am 19 years old, basically fully developed, save for the beer belly that
inevitably will come as it has for others in my family. I am the direct
descendent of lanky genes, the beneficiary of moderate good looks and almost no
hair, the inheritor of equally inevitable heart conditions.
For me, hiding my embarrassments -- my knobbly elbows, my non-existent biceps,
my visible bones elsewhere -- is a key to feeling comfortable. Despite owning
dozens of T-shirts, I never wear them as anything but a concealed layer, and for
that matter never publicly reveal anything above my forearm. I never buy a
collared shirt without tailoring it. I never put together an outfit without
asking myself, "Just how gangly am I?" or "will people think I'm healthy?" or
"can people see my visible bones?"
In a society whose body ideals worship the muscular, the tanned and the
physically fit, it's easy to fall into discomfort and alienation. Sure, on the
outside I'd be interpreted as a healthy, fit individual, but when my body is
judged on the scale of what a man "should be," I fall woefully short.
But, when people ask me if I have body issues because I hide what I hate about
my body, I say no.
Part of my body image, and by extension, my comfort, is producing an artificial
aesthetic, a facade. The structuring and tailoring of my clothes create
illusions of what I want my body shape and contour to be, rather than accurately
revealing what they are. Yes, gangly is gangly no matter how you spell it, and I
can't avoid certain eccentricities of my body, but I feel I successfully avoid
seeming quite underweight and disproportionate.
Admittedly, my means of body comfort is not parallel to typical 'liberation'
narratives created by body image activists, which so dramatically and
aggressively demand body comfort and empowerment via the stripping of a body
down to its nude core. Tyra Banks requesting haters to "kiss her fat ass" or
politically charged nudists and breast flashers might be unfair representatives
of these narratives, but they do send the message that one can only be
comfortable in their body if they are publicly willing to expose it completely.
This trend in society to diagnose body issues is to me patronizing, if not
offensive. We're told everywhere to love our bodies, to ignore socially
constructed ideals of what a body should be, to embrace our curves and to not
care about gazing eyes. Movements that stress body liberation, that attempt to
empower people to vocalize their rejection of body norms, are appealing with a
price: that people in their motivating ambitions try too hard to address people
about body norms they should be rejecting, they should be rebelling against.
While rejecting stupid body norms is an appealing political/social ambition, we
need to find ways to access these narratives without telling people to feel a
certain way in their own bodies. Body comfort and body liberation are two
different things, and our political initiatives to deconstruct superficial
paradigms in our culture should stress comfort before liberation.
In the end, I am quite liberated in my body, yet I choose to create a façade to
enhance things I like and mitigate little issues I might have. My artificial
exterior flat out hides the things I hate. My tailoring bills are high, my long
sleeve wardrobe is certainly disproportionate, but it's what I do to be what I
want to be, regardless of body politics, regardless of cliché movements. And I
don't plan to stop. |
