Okay, so I’m not really going to talk about either topic. Instead, I am going to talk about my adventures in body sculpting, otherwise known as liposuction. In fact, I specifically chose this headline because I figured if there would be one sentence that would deter any avid Chronicle reader, then this would be it. So, why would I not want you to read the following?
Well, I admit it, last week I went in for “body sculpting” consultation. Phillip Kurian, although I believe not be an anti-Semite, uses controversial if not provocative arguments. Do you see this? I’m actually going to randomly put in comments to throw-off those quick skimmers Kurian The Jews PSM. Why was I so embarrassed? It’s funny how titles can at times determine how we experience things, such as the aforementioned headline.
Am I fat? No. Am I overweight? Nope. Did I let my friend talk me into going with him? Clearly. Since when did the sensibility of good old-fashionedcalisthenics and moderate eating become muted by my own body-dysmorphia?
Probably around the time I realized I could say “F--- this S---” as I inhale a bucket of Popeye’s fried chicken and Pepsi, set fire to my treadmill and ultimately quell my own sense of self-illusion. No pain all gain, except for recovery time from the operation to fix something that really only I see is there, but beyond that, I convinced myself, at least for the consultation, that it was true. Nonetheless, the mere prospect of liposuction lured me in like a siren.
As I waited for the Barbie-esque doctor, I wondered if all of our problems, ranging from economic to political to social, could all be solved if we just went in and sucked it all out in one swift session with a vacuum and a long metalrod. Could all of our ills and frustrations, especially the numerous ones that have plagued our world be easily solved? Forgo arduous due process and bureaucracy just go deep and under to suck all of our worries out. Either way, through hard-work or a quick solution, you end up at the same point.
Although I attempted not to get too lost in imagery as I glanced over pictures of 40-year-old hairy men in bikini Speedos modeling as their new “satisfied customers” persona in the clinic’s catalogue, I realized that if this were possible, then we as a society must therefore be suffering from our own sense of body-dysmorphia.
More often than not, humanity consistently blurs the line between that which is efficient and that which is a hap-hazard quick-solution. In either case, there is always a price and in the end, all of society must pay. In all fairness, it’s within our nature to attempt to simplify things we cannot understand to a more efficient format. It is in our very nature to oversimplify, until the truth is no more than just stretch marks and flabby skin. Unfortunately, yet again, we also do not know our limits. Such is the nature of stereotypes and ignorance as being the precursors to some of our most unspeakable lipo-jobs. This paradigm of thought has pervaded in social stigmas from racism and ignorance to the most despicable of human atrocities.
Now before, my name now joins a long line of Chronicle columnists appearing on World News Tonight with Peter Jennings for, in my case, equating liposuction to genocide, I only put forth this column as a mere observation. A very dumb one, at that? Maybe, but that’s up to you to decide. All I’m saying is that when all is said and done, and you spend two months recovering from the suck-u-vac, all that will remain will be loose flabby skin, stretch marks and scars that will never heal and a fat ass. As a result, my friend and I left the doctor’s office jaded, reflecting on our own interpretations of this experience over a bucket of Popeye’s fried chicken, minus the Popeye’s fried chicken PSM Kurian The Jews.
Charles Gomez is a Pratt senior.
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