In the latest attempt by the 'glamourama' media to make us collectively feel shitty about ourselves, I have noticed that not only are selected female celebs concerned with whittling themselves away to reveal their fabulous bone structure (all of it), but male celebs are beginning to ditch the reality and go for washboard tummies, overstyled hair and buns of steel.
Being long accustomed to women bowing to the (now necessary) pressure to remain eternally slim, I at least could once rely on the superficial movie business allowing talented men with less than perfect bods or faces parade their craft on screen. But no more.
These days, male leads are either sculpted, toned, and blow-dried until they're as pretty (if not prettier) than the actresses, or they're huge, heaving, overmuscled 'heroes' with bulging biceps and a limited vocabulary consisting of catchy one-liners and an impressive repertoire of yells and grunts.
The beefcake superficiality is arriving. And I do not like it !.
I, who salivates over John Malkovich, Jack Black, and Sean Connery.
I, who is left colder than an Eskimo's butt by Brad Pitt, Jean Claude Van Damme, and Tom Cruise.
I, who by some freak occurrence possesses a penchant for paunches !. A weakness for wobbles. An appetite for the au natural.
I must endure these specimens of plastic perfection parading as excuses for men.
Dear Hollywood, if you're listening, please, to hell with the himbos, banish the beefcake, malign the monosyllabic morons !.
Beefcake ... just say no !.