Muscular masses of flesh throb and pulsate on my television screen. An increasingly grotesque parade of contestants lines up, waiting for the judges to evaluate their disproportionate physiques. Eventually, a trophy disappears into a set of monstrous arms.
More than just disturbingly displaying a warped conception of steroid-infused machismo, the bodybuilding competitions broadcast by ESPN2 point to a significant problem. Our society holds both men and women to an inaccessible physical standard and then places other positive qualities on the back burner.
Some people do not seem to realize that, as much as the media pounds our fragile psyches with images of physical perfection, not everybody can look like Jean-Claude Van Damme or Pamela Anderson. Like the Tampa Bay Buccaneers pursuing a Super Bowl ring, the masses continue to strive for an elusive physical ideal.
I am always amazed by the ridiculous inventions that the fitness industry rapidly churns out, playing on common insecurities in late-night infomercials where spandex-clad fitness experts use vague terms such as \low impact"" to explain why their product makes you look like a hyperactive orangutan on an amusement-park ride.
By now, most people have probably seen advertisements for products claiming to sculpt abdominal and other muscles using electronic shocks. At last, fitness geniuses have discovered an exercise that one can perform while consuming nachos and Icehouse.
Possibly the sickest manifestation of the fixation on appearance is the recent inundation of products promising to stimulate growth in certain sexual organs. Nothing highlights the sorry state of society like a late-night rerun of ""Jerry Springer"" interrupted by an advertisement for pills guaranteeing three inches of ""male growth.""
As if it were not enough to demand impeccable physical perfection on the more public parts of our bodies, society now requires that every man be built like Ron Jeremy down south. Thankfully, I don't have to worry much about such issues since an inch and a half is already well above average.
Unfortunately, women must also endure increased pressure regarding dimensions of certain anatomical features, and a company actually markets similar pills that promise to increase breast size. At one point, I actually considered investing in some breast enlargement pills, thinking that ingesting them would partially eliminate the need for a girlfriend. That was before I found out that a steady diet of Cheez Whiz and a lack of exercise could bring about similar changes in my physique.
The unjust demands for physical perfection from head to toe extend so deeply into the core of society that notoriety in certain professions depends exclusively on looks. For example, in the music industry, ""artists"" like Britney Spears and the Backstreet Boys dominate the charts solely because of their prettiness.
Call me old fashioned, but I have this outlandish preference for singers and musicians who can actually perform music. I can only imagine the potential disaster if society follows the example of the music industry and begins awarding other respected positions based upon appearance.
""Dr. Timberlake may not know much about open heart surgery,"" the nurse will say in a reassuring tone, ""but he sure has dreamy eyes!""
Disgusting as it may be, the obsession with looks does have a bright side. Even if I fail in every aspect of life, just like I failed in writing this column, nobody will really mind. I'll be able to coast through life thanks to my dreamy eyes.
Mike Bromberg is a sophomore who may be reached at bromsqualms@dailycardinal.com. His column runs every Thursday in The Daily Cardinal.
