Ahh yes, body image. I believe we all have at least one issue with our bodies whether you’re Adonis or a hairy, chubby man. Is it more apparent now because I am 55 ? Does acknowledging our obsession with looks make our own self image more palatable ? I’m not so sure. Being honest about managing a handsome appearance might be helpful. I mean, I’m aware that I want to look good, as good as I can, but I like to think I don’t obsess over it. I can’t help but wonder, what is obsessing over it mean ?

I think body image within gay communities is relentless. I feel that we are so critical of one another moreso than other communities. Youth takes precedence in gay communties. You’ll be hard pressed to find older men with “dad bods” prominently shown advertising porn sites. At Gay Pride events or any Gay event for that matter, most of the advertising is aimed at youth. Isn’t it all youth oriented ? This goes much deeper than what you see on the outside, literally.

In gay communities I think HIV and AIDS played a huge role in body image. The men who were dying around us were less than desirable to look at. They were unhealthy. Their bodies were wasting away. Their skin was a mess. Their gaunt faces and emaciated bodies were nothing to admire. They were a constant reminder of death and what can happen to you. Does this sound harsh ? Well it was. I’m a native of San Francisco. I lived it. I think our communities in San Francisco and Boston (I lived in Boston, too) were afraid, not just of AIDS and dying but also afraid of looking like we were dying. In direct response to this, gyms and health food stores started populating our neighborhoods. In the Castro alone I could count five stores selling vitamins and health aids all within walking distance. There were four or five gyms within a few blocks. In Boston it was the same, not quite as apparent but the gyms and vitamin stores were there. However in Boston it wasn’t so “in-your-face” about health and body image as was in San Francisco. Boston seemed to keep things quiet as if AIDS didn’t really exist. As if men weren’t dying. Whereas in San Francisco, we were in the streets fighting for access to drugs and healthcare. We were loud and we were demanding.

I think body image has become a continuing part of our communities, much more so today in my opinion, most likely because as a society we have educated ourselves more on healthy living. And if you’re not living healthy don’t turn your back because some queen will be talking shit about your body and your looks, trust me, I know. The argument for pointing out how agist we are isn’t new, it’s just more prevelent because access to information is so readily available. Also drug companies contribute to this, they have full access to advertise directly to consumers which is a fairly new concept. Back in the day, you never seen drug commercials on television, now they’re everywhere, promoting health, weight loss, memory and brain function, you name it.

To make this comment even longer, having an obsession with our image is out of proportion to reality. We all have something we wish we could change about our appearance. My career was built in the beauty industry, over 30 years. My life was youth obsessed. My looks were everything. I was selling it. I was bulimic for years. I worked in top hair salons, my clients were rich women. I had some celbrity clientele and politicians, too. I did makeup for runway, television and print. And trust me, back in the day, you never ever saw a fat hair and makeup artist, at least in the caliber salons I worked in—very cut throat. My life was defined by my career. I guess you could say that was the Californian in me. It was unhealthy but I looked great. LOL.

Then in 2013 I was hit with cancer. My cut-throat career left me behind. Working in the beauty industry is unforgiving. I lost my clients and I lost my job. My body gave up on me. I lost so much weight and the skin on my body sagged. My muscles I worked so hard on were gone. I felt like shit and I looked like shit. I remember looking in the mirror at my ass and I cried and cried. My ass looked like I was 80. That defined me for years to come. My goal in the gym since then and even today has been to build up my ass, LOL, seriously. Since cancer I have spent countless hours in the gym working on my ass, and my body, but not before I turned to alcohol. I nearly drank myself to death over depression. Today I am still body conscious but it’s not out of control. I am what I am, take it or leave it. I think a lot of this comes from age, I’ll be 56 next month. But I strive to remain healthy. I do have eyes and I do look at my friends I grew up with who are obese today and have given up, but not me. I want to be around for my partner, for myself and I want to look good doing it, and that requires work. So I work on it, I just don’t obsess over it, but even that is an ongoing journey for me, not to obsess over it.

This blog post is in response to poll I took asking about body image, how we think of ourselves, does it matter. It was posted by a guy in his 50s. But the sentiment I got was of him looking back with some regret or wishful thinking. That had me thinking, too.

I have always been attracted to older men. When I was 28 I met my husband who was 48. We were together 17 years. I’ve always identified with older men much more than my own generation, however, older guys are my preference still, but I think even more so, now that I am one of those older men. Haha. But I wear it with honor. I lived through HIV and AIDS. I even tested positive in 1989. So for me, reaching my age is remarkable at the very least.

You know, it’s funny, I have to keep reminding myself that I am of this generation. Sometimes I find myself sharing “inside jokes” with someone younger than myself and they look at me blankly. LOL. Initially I think, what did I just say, then it clicks, “Oh yeah, he has no idea what I’m referring to.” LOL. Admittedly, I cringe when a younger guy calls me daddy, ugh. Our generation has a different idea of what “daddy” means, or at least, what I grew up thinking of older men admired by younger men. I was looked at as a cliché. Today I’m with Jon, I’m eight months older than him…