The Anger of Compassion

Pumping Clavicles, or: The Shape of Shrugs to Come

I suggest that for all lovers of great physiques, and for all lovers of beautiful clothes, it is time to do one simple thing: it is time to shrug.

Today, October 10, is the fiftieth anniversary of the publication of Ayn Rand's stunning classic, Atlas Shrugged, and there are, well, a few radical ideas for action to be found therein.

I mentioned great physiques and beautiful clothes. Do we see those things celebrated to the extent they deserve? I say no, and since we inhabit our bodies and wear clothes every day, that's a damn shame. In fact, I have problems with bodybuilding and with high fashion both, and that problem is with, well, the bodies. They don't inspire me.

It's worse than that: I reject those models of human beauty.

Why is the contemporary professional bodybuilder look so unappealing? Ask most women whether that's the ideal physique for a man, and you'll see some facial expressions and possibly hear some language we do not normally associate with proper young ladies. Ask a man about most of the models used in the fashion industry the same question.

The answer, I think, is that health is sexy, and I think people respond to it. There are beautiful women posing as fashion models, but anyone can look at them and tell that, for the most part, they're a bit, ahhh, underfed. And it's getting worse, apparently: T.C. Luoma, editor of the web site Testosterone Nation, writes in his latest "Atomic Dog" column, "The Shape of Thighs to Come," that the latest hot erogenous zone, according to certain fashion mavens, is...(wait for it)...clavicles.

Clavicles.

I kid you not.

His source is an article in Vanity Fair by one Amy Fine Collins, itself also bearing the title "The Shape of Thighs to Come." I must say, I do think that Luoma reads Amy Fine Collins article a bit wrong -- she herself writes of "the schism between elite fashion sensibilities and vernacular tastes," while he offers to barf on her Jimmy Choo shoes -- but I still think he is making a point worth pondering.

It's not, obviously, just the fashion models. Almost anyone can look at professional bodybuilders and tell that the only way to get where they are is to ingest steroids by the bucketload, get in some human growth hormone and probably some insulin as well, on top of being genetically gifted, and then to dehydrate the hell out of yourself prior to a contest. For most folk, that does not resonate as healthy, so these "athletes" are as bad as the anorexic or bulemic fashion models.

But I can't agree with the fashionistas mentioned in the Collins article. Abandon the look of strength and muscle? No way.

Powerlifters, it's easy to admit, generally carry too much fat. Well, powerlifters are not training for esthetic appeal. Bodybuilders (in contest shape) carry way too little -- in fact, if they're not dehydrated on the night of a contest, they're damn close. Olympic weightlifters aren't working toward esthetic development, either. So what possible role models are there?

In his column, Luoma offers a few to begin with: "From the Farnese Hercules to John L. Sullivan to Sandow to Muscle Beach to comic book superheroes to Arnold Schwarzenegger and Sly Stallone, men have always gravitated towards muscle."

I think the love of a mesomorphic frame is hard wired. Study after study has shown that a muscular form is a cultural ideal. Granted, we're probably not talking about the excess that's seen on the stage of a competitive bodybuilding show, but we're talking about at least running-back muscle.

For better or worse, men attribute positive personality traits to muscle. Men view their bodies as instruments and those with strength or power will be more useful, more likely to be dominant, confident, and independent.

I'll readily admit that there's some minor psychological flaw in just about anybody who starts lifting weights; some insecurity or weakness that requires muscular armor to either hide it, shield it, or cure it, but as therapy it's a hell of a lot more effective and rewarding than a psychologist's couch or a lifetime addiction to smoking, drinking, or eating comfort food.

The end result, aside from hopefully reaching an esthetic ideal, is often a confident, self-actualized being who carries the lessons learned in the weight room into every facet of life.

It all comes down, continues Luoma, to a love of the heroic.

Yes.

At the Luoma column you can find a picture of the Farnese Hercules and a picture of classic strongman Eugen Sandow posing as that same character. Awesome. You can also find photographs of the Discobolus statue, and of Michelangelo's David. These suggest, I submit, man at his physical best.

Howard Roark and Henry Rearden -- characters in Ayn Rand novels -- worked in quarries. Another, John Galt, did physical labor on a railroad line, and one senses that Francisco d'Anconia -- who had also worked in quarries -- could have physically handled any threat presented to him, at any time.

So I don't follow professional bodybuilding (I do know who the Mr. Olympia winner is -- Jay Cutler -- because it's news, but I don't care.) and I don't buy tickets to any contests. Who cares? I don't buy or read the magazines which cater to that interest. I don't understand why women would buy the major fashion magazines, either: the clothes, sure, I can understand, but the images? The women shown wearing those clothes? Strikes me as a slap in the face to most women.

But I lift.

Look, I'm a skinny guy myself, and I struggle with lifting both barbell and fork in my pursuit of the ideal physique, and I say as a skinny guy: it's not healthy, whether we're talking pro bodybuilder or anorexic-bulemic cokehead fashion model, to get one's bodyfat percentage that low. It's not healthy being that skinny.

We have lost something. Take a look at these pages, which simulates bodybuilding champions of various years facing each other in a photographic "virtual posedown." It's instructive.

Building muscle improves one's appearance because it improves the symmetry and proportion you present, visually, to the world. More men and more women should build more muscle. But piling on more and more and more mass, for the sake of piling on mass, is not the way to go.

Mind you, I'm not anti-steroid, not at all. But I'm not anti-knife or anti-fire or anti-rope, and all of those things can be used for bad things, like murder and arson and lynching. The top bodybuilders of the so-called Golden Age (1960-1980) all used steroids. But the mass monsters of today who compete and win titles like Mr. Olympia are not my ideal, because when I think of esthetic reasons for lifting, I think of beauty and yes, TC Luoma -- and thank you for saying it --heroism. I think of David and of Discobolus. I want women to like and admire my body, and yes, to desire it.

We've lost something with regard to our images of feminine beauty, too. I don't care what is said by which luminary at Barney's or Vanity Fair or Pucci: any look that belongs in a "Girls of Auschwitz" photo spread is never going to be anything more than a fad, and a brief one at that, and if such people are going to put their names to such pronouncements, then you know damn well that as of now, their pronouncements aren't worth listening to. Look, I know women who are too skinny and yet were sexy, and so have you, just as I've known a few who were overweight and yet managed to be sexy. And so have you. Maybe you, reading this, are one of those women. Well, then you know what I'm talking about. No one ever (credibly) said that life would be simple. But health and vitality, strength and muscle, are sexy. Period. Starvation and dehydration are not.

Luoma also mentions (in this column and in many of his others) that the striving to improve the physique is heroic, too. Yeah, I'd say so. Roark and Rearden and d'Anconia (have I mentioned that October 10 is the 50th anniversary of Atlas Shrugged?) worked in quarries because they had goals they were pursuing, and those quarries were way stations on the way to achieving those goals, just as squats and deadlifts, while physically demanding and uncomfortable, are mile markers on your road to a great physique.

And on mine: I'm recently back to the pursuit, after taking off over a year due to painful injuries, and it feels great. I'm weaker and smaller than I was, and I need to be careful, and it's tough getting all the calories down -- but I'm back, just after my 48th birthday, and the baby steps feel great.

I'm with TC Luoma, and I declare that curves are good and fat is good. You don't want to be Mr. Creosote, but damn it, fat is healthy and fat is good. And muscle is great. Clavicle? Bone? Bone is something for muscle to hang on to...so while I'm glad for that attractive woman that she has functioning clavicles, I'm not going to pursue some Machiavellian strategy for getting a look at them. So screw clavicles, and screw the clavicular curia while we're at it.

And shrug. Eschew the bodybuilding "mainstream: and the couture elite both. You probably already do, and hey, they're dissing you, aren't they? Sure they are. They've abandoned beauty. You don't have to.

You celebrate it.

And if you do, then by all means, take a read at Atlas Shrugged. Wildest ride you'll ever be on -- and a beautiful celebration of beauty, as well.

Posted by Craig Ceely at October 10, 2007 08:53 PM