Blogatron

These Thighs? Oh, I'm Taking These to the Pound Tomorrow, or, Grrrr.

Here is something that has been perplexing me lately. Lately, I seem to have encountered a great deal of self-loathing of a very specific sort. I recently overheard someone saying something that really, really makes me want to jump up and down and shake my ass like a red-assed baboon* when I hear it: she was talking about her running regime, and during this discussion she dropped the phrase "I just need to get rid of these thighs" while slapping the offending body parts. My immediate reaction was to ask, "But then whatever will separate your knees from your pelvis?" but since I am not (usually) a complete asshole, I resisted. However, what is up with this? I have heard many people express similar sentiments here and there throughout my travels. "Oh, if I could just remove this [offending body part]!"

I realize that people making these statements don't literally want to remove parts of their body. However, the phrase evokes a level of dissociation which I find depressing. It's always "this" or "these," not "my." "Oh, that stomach? That's got nothing to do with me. We just shared a cab over here."

Poor body parts! Faithfully doing whatever their particular job is, although flabby or lumpy or too big or whatever they may be, and they get cut dead like that. I cannot claim to be a grand prize winner when it comes to self-esteem, but I would nonetheless be quite alarmed if someone switched asses on me in the night, and I woke up with a strange ass, however gorgeous and beautiful the new ass might be. Wouldn't it be weird to have the same you with a new, different ass attached? And this kind of segues into the secondly part.

Secondly, it is weird to watch people dissect themselves like that, as though they are performing a self-autopsy. Maybe I'm having trouble with the mind-body split, but to me it is just not right when people divide themselves up into bits and then rate the bits independently from each other or from the functions they perform. "My thighs (which incidentally take me running three miles a day, three times a week, something Hilatron would probably throw up and pass out if she tried to do) are too flabby and I wish to wash my hands of them (which I will do THROUGH RUNNING, oh the irony)." I guess this dissection process is what makes it easy to talk about getting rid of one?s limbs and things so cavalierly, but it's creepy to watch someone act like they could be disassembled and rebuilt using different components. What are you, a Tinker Toy? They can't even do that for me, and I'm a robot**. You're just going to have to deal!

These things fill me with impatience and make me wonder where all the loyalty has gone. Most people's bodies mostly tend to do what they are asked to, with the exception of resembling the 1% of the population that are models or look like models, and yet, all this vitriol. I don't understand the casual dismissal of one's parts. I would certainly not embarrass my current ass by talking smack about it at a party. Would you do that to a person? Would you announce, "Oh, the next time you see me I'll be back on the market, because I'm dumping that loser Henry the first chance I get," while poor Henry stands there all "this is news to me, but I'm just gonna keep smiling and try to retain what little pride I have left?"

Enough, I say! I urge you to make peace with your parts - they've stuck by you longer than Henry has. At the very least, remember that they are yours, and that you need them for important things like remaining corporeal and stuff. They are not a separate entity, or a mortal enemy. Your body and you are pretty much evenly matched. You make those biceps an enemy, and one day you'll let your guard down and live to regret it, mark my words. Wouldn't it be better to find a way to work together?

Oh, and anyone I hear bitching about overeating during the holidays? I will start removing body parts for you. Cookies are good, but not worth it if you're going to burn off the calories yapping about how "bad" you just were for eating them, like someone is doing a report card on your eating habits. Grr!

*I don't know exactly where this urge comes from, but for some time I have felt that shaking one's (preferably bare) ass at things is a perfect way to express exasperation that has passed the point of intelligent discourse. Try it and see if you don't agree: the next time you see something on TV that is so insufferably stupid that you lose the power of speech, get up, turn around, and shake your ass at the set. You can also make unpleasant hooting noises. It's very gratifying. Back

**Stupid Earth scientists! Back

Posted by hilatron at December 19, 2002 10:19 PM