A body chiseled by sex
You ever just look at someone and wonder?
No. 124: A body chiseled by sex
The human body is beautiful, so when I encounter them in the form of people, I like to look at them, examine them, and come up with inferences about them, almost as if they were sculptures.
For example, I used to work as a lifeguard at a community pool.
My manager had a body chiseled by sex.
Of course, I have no practical data to prove that point.
But I do have the fact that he was strong, but not. His skin looked healthy, his eyes were clear, and his cheeks were pink. He had no hair, but that seemed only to add to his confidence. Always, he wore cargo shorts, and he had somewhat of a belly, but rather than it seeming a burden, it was as if a six-pack had congealed into one strong ab. A video existed on YouTube of him setting his chest hair on fire while drunk. All of us, his employees, had seen it, and it had the effect of painting him in a legendary light, sealing the deal that his body was in fact chiseled by sex.
Then, there are athletes.
Except for in extreme cases, athletes tend to have bodies beautiful according to the standards of art. They are almost literally chiseled, Michelangelo-style.
Or rather, Michelangelo sculptures are almost literally human, God-style.
The cyclist tends to have canons for legs. The swimmer, like the basketballer, has an elongated but well-balanced form. The long-distance runner is skin and bones, maintaining only the minimum muscle to fat ratio to keep running. The fighter has, in my opinion, the best form of all, a body prepared to grapple with another body.
All in all, the archetypical athlete’s shape is hands-down heroic. Through many hours of strain, the muscles and tendons that hold their bones together develop fully. To watch them move is an experience, whether it’s a pitcher winding up and throwing a ball, a runner performing a sprint, a cyclist suffering up a hill, a high jumper jumping high. As a byproduct of their passions, they turn themselves into sculptures. And the best part is, it seems not to matter much to them. As the television interviewer beholds a Herculean ideal, the athlete complains of an unfavorable call at second base.
Even those who consider themselves unchiseled are, I contend, chiseled.
So long as we inhabit a body, there’s no escaping it.
Compared to athletes, the difference is this.
Some are chiseled by more delicate blows. The chiseling happens over time, like a boulder carved by the flow of a river. The presentation is more subtle, less angular, but equally perfect.
Take the writer.
The most noticeable detail can be found in her hands. She has an uncommon dexterity when handling small objects, and when she presses a button, her finger lands right in the center. Her movements are motivated more by thought than anything physical. She thinks, and her eyes look up to the sky. An idea comes, and she seems absent before producing a notebook and returning to the present. She’s flexible, can adapt to almost any scenario. She walks with a characteristic lightness, as if the world is some mixture of both the real and the imagined. And to her, it is.
Likewise, the truck driver is chiseled. His right calve is a little bigger than his left. The muralist is chiseled, with the blocky shoulders of someone who paints pictures taller than the average person. The heavy drinker is chiseled. Little red flecks spot his nose and cheekbones for added detail. The cook is chiseled, sometimes too much, by the cuts and burns on his hands and arms, and by the occasional missing finger.
But there’s another type of body, and the only one I deem an outlier.
That is, the person who chisels themselves, not leaving things up to chance.
These are those who diet or exercise in order to re-chisel themselves. These are the most sure and the most unsure, because playing God is no small task. They attempt to hack their bodies by introducing new patterns to their day, and not without risk of throwing things out of balance. Contrary to the athlete, this person intends for their body to be art according the the standards of art, or according to their own standards, or according to someone else's standards. (You can see where things can get messy). The result is the highest highs (acceptance) and the lowest lows (shame). But always, these bodies contain a meticulous and complex person, or just someone who wants to be loved.
But who cares, really? Why all this talk of chiseling? Why consider, so deeply, a person’s features and the things they imply?
Because people are interesting.
Because I’m a person too.
And because I’m a person who loves to marvel at the miraculousness of being a person, a person that changes, in a world of other people, people that are always changing. ♦
Weekly Three
HEAR: “Inside Out” by Duster (YouTube)
READ: This poem by my friend Anthony Leon, who never types and always writes by hand (Instagram)
VIEW: Andre D. Wagner’s beautiful photography (Instagram)
P.S.
Heads up! Next week, I’m starting something new here. Friday emails will come per usual, as will occasional stories. But! In addition to those things, I’m going to start a new art project behind the paywall: photo essays!
Using a brand new camera (arrives tomorrow) that emulates the style of 35mm film, I’m going to create a Photo Essays section of my Substack where I’ll share a batch of photos from some activity I did (a walk, a trip to Chicago, etc.) with an essay explaining what I saw, what I was thinking, what happened, etc. In short, I want to bring you into my world in a visual and expository way.
I’m stoked. I think it’s going to be really interesting. I hope you’re excited too.
Until then.
Love,
matt
A fascinating post, Matt - thank you!
I like this idea matt. It didn't go where I expected it to go. At all. Well, it partially went where I expected it to go but not in the way I had expected. Ok, now I'm just making myself dizzy. Everyone is beautiful, in their own unique way. One's physical state of being is nothing more than expression of who they essentially are. I can appreciate that. The elder statesman or stateswoman carry the lines on their faces that have been etched by the years of effort to make good decisions and lead their followers toward a better future. It's been said we are what we eat but, of course we're so much more. We are what we think, we are what we do and what we dream. We are what we've been given, what we have earned and so much more. But I digress. You, as always take a thing, turn it on its head and we fall in step intrigued with where you will take us this time. Thanks for the ride. Honestly, sometimes Friday doesn't come soon enough to see where you'll take us next!