My Saturday night: Three men, six naked balls and my husband
When Dan called me and suggested that we purchase tickets for the Chicago Sketch Comedy Festival, I had no idea the kinky, flesh-filled night we were in for. I suppose that, with a name like FUCT, I could've expected that the comedy troupe would be risqué. But what we saw Saturday night was far beyond anything I could've imagined... and this is coming from a woman who lived over a vibrator store called Batteries Not Included for three years.
The humor was definitely edgy - songs about things people really should not be singing about, ample boy-on-boy tongue kissing, that sort of thing. But it was a skit involving "Paris Hilton," "Britney Spears," and "Amy Winehouse" that left my jaw scraping the $7-per-glass, Merlot-splattered floor. All three were played by men-very hairy, masculine-looking men, I might add. They wore wigs, skimpy tops, and makeup. And that is all. Naked from the waist down, they each had tucked their, um, business between their legs. I literally have never seen anything like it in my life, and I'm no prude. These guys were totally exposed, teetering around in high heels, all knock-kneed and brazen. At one point a wasted Amy Winehouse fell over, her backside to the audience, and we all lost our collective crap. “Is this even legal?" I asked Dan between cackles. Some of the men in the audience had looks of sheer horror plastered across their faces. Clearly, they had not bargained for mangina.
We laughed so hard, all the way to sushi and drinks and back home again. It wasn't until I sat down just now and thought about it (I'm grinning like a crazy woman as I write, actually) that I started thinking about what these guys did from a body image perspective. It’s as if they had ZERO (less than?) shame about their physiques. Forget frontal nudity --can you even imagine jumping and running around on a harshly lit stage in front of 200 strangers in her bra and underwear? Those lights show everything - zits, hair, cellulite. But these men were prancing around sans pants, so dedicated to making us laugh that they apparently could not care less about things like muscle tone, flabby butts, or public indecency laws.
Anyone else have anything this horrifying/hysterical happened to them this weekend? Do tell!
PS My essay on my neck/back saga appears in this month's Health Magazine. Link to come...
Also, it's Week Two of the NeverSayDiet Community Challenge. This week’s body image "assignment":
Now, I want you to look in the mirror and, using a dry erase marker, write down a negative thought that pops in your head (“My stomach is so stretch mark-y!” for example). Think about it, recognize how mean you’re being to yourself, and then wipe it away. Now replace it with a positive thought, like “Hot legs!” or “I make people laugh.” Keep that thought up all week.
Will YOU try?
