Aimzster
Dianna GCouch Potato Men shun exercise for Plastic Surgery
September 4th 2007 00:35
I read an article over the weekend that had me seriously contemplating the future of men and their masculinity. In the UK’s Sunday Telegraph, they conducted a survey on men and plastic surgery. The survey showed that one in four men who live their lives entrenched in a couch, gorging on junk food and slumbering their day away after a particularly big lunch, would rather go under the knife to improve their looks than to exercise. Apparently, the number of men opting for liposuction to remove their excess fat has grown in the past two years with more and more men looking for quick, albeit, expensive solutions to stay buff and trim. Sweating in the gym three to four hours a week is just too much hard work and cuts into the time they could be spending watching DVDs or playing computer games while snacking on a bucket of KFC.
While it worries me that men – and, of course, women – see plastic surgery as their beacon of hope to stay thin and look good while stuffing their faces with whatever junk food they can get their hands on without thinking about the consequences to their general health, it annoys me more to think that there are actually men out there who are so lazy, they are willing to have their body parts sliced open, become virtual invalids as they recover for weeks from surgery, instead of spending a measly twenty minutes in the gym every day.
I am not asking for chivalry to be back. I do not expect when I set foot to cross a street at a busy intersection for a man to suddenly charge out and announce, “I will protect you from these moving beasts!” Heck, ever since my hubby cowered on top of a table, leaving me to hunt and destroy a certain creature making ‘all those squeaky noises’, I don’t bat an eyelid when a man doesn’t offer me a seat on a crowded bus or lets the door swing to a shut when he knows I’m about to go through. I have accepted that my brother will take twice as long to fix his hair than me and my sisters and my heterosexual guy friend can lecture on the difference between a facial scrub and an exfoliator. But damn if I’m going to stand aside and accept it when my hubby or bro or dad suddenly stands in front of a mirror and asks me, “Seriously, do these stubbies make my bum look fat? Should I make an appointment with Dr Hauschke to suck the fats out of my thighs and put them into my lips?”
I guess the question is : Is it sexist of me to think of men who would shun exercise for a surgeon’s knife as ‘wusses’ and compel me to growl, “For God’s sake, be a man!”
I am not asking for chivalry to be back. I do not expect when I set foot to cross a street at a busy intersection for a man to suddenly charge out and announce, “I will protect you from these moving beasts!” Heck, ever since my hubby cowered on top of a table, leaving me to hunt and destroy a certain creature making ‘all those squeaky noises’, I don’t bat an eyelid when a man doesn’t offer me a seat on a crowded bus or lets the door swing to a shut when he knows I’m about to go through. I have accepted that my brother will take twice as long to fix his hair than me and my sisters and my heterosexual guy friend can lecture on the difference between a facial scrub and an exfoliator. But damn if I’m going to stand aside and accept it when my hubby or bro or dad suddenly stands in front of a mirror and asks me, “Seriously, do these stubbies make my bum look fat? Should I make an appointment with Dr Hauschke to suck the fats out of my thighs and put them into my lips?”
I guess the question is : Is it sexist of me to think of men who would shun exercise for a surgeon’s knife as ‘wusses’ and compel me to growl, “For God’s sake, be a man!”
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