Most of us obsess about body image – especially around the New Year resolution time of the year. I can’t say that I ever really gave it a lot of thought although some of you might argue that I probably should have.
For most guys, our healthy egos keep us firmly planted in the the ‘Damn, I look good‘ fantasy, so we tend not to shame ourselves about our shape or about putting on a few extra pounds as much as the stronger sex does.
My Uncle would joke that his doctor tells him that if he were an inch taller, he’d be round – then we’d laugh and laugh…and eat bacon cheeseburgers.
People come in all shapes and sizes, and no matter how many tofu burgers or yoga classes they attend, they ain’t getting any taller or making their legs longer. I really admire their tenacity and dedication though.
My overall size and shape hasn’t changed much in the past 20 or 30 years, not because of any stringent ritual of healthy diet and exercise, but probably because God figured going grey at 30 and having a bad complexion were enough of a burden for one guy.
I can pretty much always buy the same size pants off the rack – wider than long, but consistent. I always figured my body shape was pretty normal.
That is, until I took a trip to China.
In China, I was lucky enough to have a business suit custom tailored from scratch – every measurement and seam was made just for my less than perfect body.
I picked out the style and the material, then the tailor went to work, measuring stuff that I figured he had no business measuring, but what did I know? I’ve never had a suit made just for me before.
The tailor hand-delivered it to my hotel room but I didn’t get to try it on before I flew home. When I did, the jacket was perfect – shoulders fit beautifully, buttons did up without me having to suck in a lot of air, arm length left just enough room for shirt cuffs. Perfect!
But there was something wrong with the pants. The length was exactly what it should have been, but when I pulled them up they’d just slide right down – in fact, they wouldn’t stay up at all unless I cinched in the belt.
The tailor must have mis-measured my waist somehow. Funny, since the waist is generally the most important measurement in pants, right? But that really wasn’t it either – the did fit around my waist properly. They just didn’t fit but they still fit.
I don’t wear suits a lot, but every time I’d wear this one, the pants just wouldn’t stay up on their own. Then it finally dawned on me. The pants were tailored to my exact shape…
Apparently I have no ass! The pants slide off because there’s nothing there to hold them up. I hate that tailor! All the pants off the rack have a built-in butt, so I never noticed this deformity until that guy in Shanghai exposed it in his own passive way.
I suppose in the grand scheme of things, a flat butt isn’t the worst body issue one could have. Maybe if I wore high-heels, it would perk up a bit.
Twerking is definitely off my bucket list, though.