You are being asked to play into the contorted (you might even say deluded) way that many obsess about penis size. Inflation runs especially high on apps, where (at least in the gay world) it is wise to subtract an inch (or two!) from whatever number a guy presents. Continuing the charade IRL can feel like actively thrusting yourself into absurdism. You don't have to lie to anyone for the sake of their penis-shaped ego.
For 22 years, I ran around with small bags of saline water on my chest a fact I shared with only a handful of close friends. I felt ashamed of having chosen artificial enhancement. I'm an outdoorsy mountain runner. At 56, I want to model ageing naturally, but having breast implants ran counter to that. Now they are gone, thanks to explant surgery implant removal without replacement.
This comes after millions of women, myself included, have spent years trying to unlearn the toxic messages we were fed in our youth. That beauty equals thinness. That discipline means restriction. That our bodies must be controlled and minimized to be acceptable. We fought for size diversity, for the radical idea that you can be beautiful, strong and worthy without disappearing. And just as that movement was starting to shift the cultural tide, here comes this trend of pharmaceutical shrinking that pretends thinness is wellness.
I started modeling when I was 19. I was hanging out with what I considered to be some of the most beautiful people in the world. What I realized really quickly was that everybody had an insecurity. Everybody. You look in the mirror long enough, you'll find something you don't like, or that you think could be better, or you think could be different.
Two years ago, we were asking ourselves here at EL PAIS if the normal man would make a comeback meaning, whether we weren't seeing the return to glory of the guy lacking in chiseled abs, generous biceps and a square jaw, represented in today's cinema by Hovik Keuchkerian and Josh O'Connor and, classically, by legends like Humphrey Bogart and Marcello Mastroianni.
In the lengthy post Sivan described flitting between "feeling like I'm aging in a good way" and "feeling like Gollum's very close pop-singing relative". He also described feeling "somehow both skinny and fat at the same time".
My before' was trying to make myself as small as possible in every conceivable way: my body, voice, emotions, opinions, she says. My after' is allowing myself to be my biggest self, however that looks.
My patient Alice began experiencing self-blame in childhood. Her well-intentioned mom put her on diets when she was in her early teens. Even before that, she had started to develop what she eventually called the "self-hatred voice." She vividly remembers when she was ten years old, sitting in the front yard with her legs bent, seeing the inside curvature of her leg and wanting it to be smaller.
I have no clue how to help her because every time I say that she is beautiful, she says I'm only saying that because I'm her mother. She is surrounded by social media images, unrealistic beauty standards and constant comparisons, and I fear that these influences have shaped how she sees herself way more than I ever could. I feel helpless watching her struggle with such intense self-criticism at such a young age.
Wake. If you're lucky, that is morning's first task. Wake. Not rolling over onto your side, not recalling the thoughts that have stayed the night, like a tryst who cannot sense they're meant to leave before light breaks through on the pane. Leave that to phones - light breaking through, remembering everything. Wake - what a herculean task! To wake first, and not check your phone. Everything after that? A form of grace, if you believe in that sort of thing.
Tests were run and I was told it might be a clot. I recognized it as the kind that had killed a friend of mine just the year before. She was my age and also a mom of two. Healthy. Strong. I remember hearing she'd gone to the hospital and thinking, She's tough. I'll see her later this week. She was gone less than 24 hours later.
No visit home for the holidays is complete without at least a few annoying or insensitive comments from your extended family. Often, your family means well when they inquire - yet again! - about your relationship status, your body, your baby plans or what is (or isn't) on your plate or in your glass. Or perhaps they're oblivious to how inappropriate these remarks can be. But that doesn't change the fact that it's exhausting to deal with these same comments year after year.
He told me last night that while he understands that my hairiness does not have any bearing on my value as a human, he is repulsed by how hairy I am, and he cannot help his "subconscious preference for smoothness." I have no idea what the proper course of action here is. Right now, I don't even want to look at him or talk to him. I don't want to start waxing again.
Music has long served as both a mirror and a refuge-reflecting private pain while offering language for experiences that feel unspeakable. Few songs have embodied this dual role as powerfully as Christina Aguilera's "Beautiful." Released in 2002, when mainstream pop rarely centered vulnerability or marginalized identities, the song and its music video offered something quietly radical: affirmation without conditions. Psychologically, representation matters because being seen supports emotional regulation and belonging.
"We should never exercise for the sake of burning calories. ... We should exercise for cardiovascular health, for mental health, for emotional health. It gives structure to your day. You can create social relationships through classes together," she explained. "There are so many reasons to exercise. B urning calories shouldn't be one of them." Recent research shows that focusing on regular exercise improves your longevity ― even more than focusing on weight loss.
Early in Eilish's career, these androgynous looks helped distinguish her from her pop peers. But according to Eilish herself, the oversized 'fits were also a way for her to manage her insecurities. "I was wearing all these baggy clothes, and it was my style, but at the same time, it was how I could feel comfortable in my body and not feel tied to how my body looks," she told in a 2024 interview.
Picture a 12-year-old girl who looked 18, towering over classmates, grappling with a changing body that seemed to have a mind of its own. That girl was me. I was strong, athletic and competitive at a time when female strength was often seen as unfeminine. I remember the sideways glances, the whispers, the constant feeling of not fitting in - not with the girls, not with the boys, not even in my own skin.
"I have heard it all. I've heard every version of it, of what's wrong with me," she said. "And then you fix it, and then it's wrong for different reasons." As co-star Cynthia Erivo nodded supportively, Grande suggested that the "comfortability" people have with speaking about others' looks is "really dangerous" for all parties involved, adding that the "pressure of that noise" has been present since she was 17 but is no longer "welcome" in her life.
