Almost
every magazine I look at these days spurts out a herd of photos with contented people,
flaunting their bodies in a soiree of colourful, yet skimpy bikinis or figure-hugging
swim trunks.
The
titles above these pages suggest some sort of joyful escapade, provoking emotions
of envy and low self-esteem. Although I
pretend to overlook these ‘distasteful’ images of happiness, I find myself
rewinding back to the beginning of the magazine, analysing each pose and smile,
while my subconscious is screaming for me to remove my tardy behind off the
couch and head outside for a five kilometre run. Stat.
My
publicist is an avid health-freak. I am
inspired by her willingness to adhere to a sensible health routine and her stringent
laws for healthy eating, but I’m finding it difficult to be motivated by a
sesame snack that mollifies my hunger pains for five minutes, and leaves me tooth-picking
my teeth of sesame seeds, trapped between my dentures, for the next thirty
minutes.
But
the group of people in the magazine, posing confidently near some beach bar
with their hands raised jubilantly in the air, presumably overlook the
half-an-hour sesame seed flossing session, as they prioritise well being and
fitness over a double-decker cheese and bacon burger.
The
result, of course, is a photo opportunity in one of the colourful lifestyle
magazines, dotted around the island – available at every corner kiosk. Their rise to fame is relied solely on their
motivation to be idolised by us common folk who worship their bodies as if they
were gods.
A
recent survey suggests that our bikini and swim trunk models are suffering from
a huge lack of self-esteem, with only one percent believing they are
beautiful. I’ve often believed that
beauty is skin-deep, but unfortunately in my case, one would have to plough
through a mountain of blubbery layers to discover it. And, in order to conceal
my unsightly folds of flab, I am compelled to order my “custom-designed
swimsuit” from an American website that caters for the “extra-large individuals”
of this world.
So,
I’ve narrowed it down to two options: first, if I adhere to my publicist’s rigorous
nutritional programme, I will end up posing with the other demigods in next
summer’s lifestyle magazines, or second, to continue on the path of burger-eating
unrighteousness and keep ordering a larger-sized swim trunk with every season.
More
than likely, I would have to refrain from the latter, and pre-warn my senses
that an apple for my mid-morning snack is the only option available. And since I’m on this protest path, I’m
warning all those toned bodies in this year’s summer snapshots, that they’d
better make room for me.
Weight
for me soon. Paul
Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts.
For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online,
visit www.paul-lambis.com
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