Thursday, April 14, 2011

This I Do For Me

Upon viewing the cover and a few pictures from OK Magazine of Mariah Carey and her husband Nick Cannon on my dear friend Trent's Pink Is The New Blog, I longed for the days when men stood outside delivery rooms, ruminating their fates as fathers and passing out cigars while the birth process took place. We've swung the other way as a culture -- Mariah is posed naked with her husband fondling her very pregnant body in a variety of positions. Nick appears also to be unclothed, bringing to mind John Lennon's disturbing album cover of Two Virgins, where he and Yoko are entwined in their full naked glory. Why, God, why? I get why Mariah did it -- I'm sure she got paid good money. But why do we want to see it? I blame Demi Moore for starting the trend on the cover of Vanity Fair so many years ago when she was married to Bruce Willis, not Ashton, when I only used a computer to type my name over and over in a trance-like fog (telling detail -- it was only my name. I never typed a boy's name with mine). Those days stay in my mind like a faded Polaroid, capturing an innocence to which I will not be returning.

I get it. Pregnancy is beautiful, natural. But I only expect to see these types of photos when I peruse through Our Bodies, Ourselves. I'm not particularly squeamish, but I still can't hop on the pregnant photo bandwagon. I have no problem with doing these pictures for your private collection. I've never been pregnant; I'm sure it's a wonderful feeling and you want to capture it. Like the old Clairol slogan, This I Do For Me. But the obsession with pregnant naked celebrities? I don't know. I don't want to know. I clicked the link, though -- it's my fault I saw these pictures. Like Oedipus, I couldn't look away. Next time I'm tempted, I'll go in the next room and hand out cigars.

Michelle's Spell of the Day
"Grief can take care of itself, but to get the full value of a joy you must have somebody to divide it with." Mark Twain

Cocktail Hour
Okay, my dears. I have hopped onto the Dexter bandwagon. If you think you aren't the type to like this show, you might be wrong. I always thought I would hate it, but turns out it's as addictive as crack cocaine. So far, I have three more episodes of Season Four. If John Lithgow isn't full out scary, nobody is.

Benedictions and Maledictions
Happy Thursday!


Shea Goff said...

This is incredibly interesting, I think.

When I began reading your writing years ago I was uncomfortable with the photographs you attached to each post. They were visually seductive in my opinion and my ideas/judgements were shaped by a time in my life when I felt women, namely me, should be listened to. So I'd bypass the feelings of your accompanying photograph and delve into your writing.

Then one day a man said what I thought about your photographs and I defended you. I said you had every right to be whoever you were. That if he could not get past the picture to see how brilliant you were, if he was so stuck on physicality to not understand women had thoughts, opinions, they were incredible sources of power and information, then I guess he had a problem and I became good and appreciative of your photos because I figured you did that for you. And well, hell, you were/are physically beautiful with a mind to boot. People not need only look, they also needed to listen.

I had been pregnant when I saw Demi's photos. It was a new concept to me, loving my body for what it was. I had not so much liked the swelling, the large belly that made it hard to do anything, the husband/father who seemed more interested in the women with flatter tummies. Demi made it okay, I think.

No matter what, I do especially love the title of this post.

You do whatever you need to do for you, my friend.

Much love.

Charles Gramlich said...

Yeah, maybe if I were perusing a magazine on child care and pregnancy. That doesn't often happen.

Dave said...

One of the best explanations given for the facination we had for the Archie Bunker character back in the 70s, written by a conservative, BTW, is that Archie, whatever his bigoted beliefs, was constantly bewildered by the fast cultural changes that were occurring at the time. It was easy to laugh at Archie as the world around him became more enlightened.

I'm not laughing so much now. Am I the New Archie for the 21st century?

Anonymous said...

Your pictures are all about you even if you are not in them, to you they are a manifestation of some part of you or your personality. Fine and well, you didn't have to write a post to explain it to the more observant out here.

However, they do seem to get to your head a bit, as after a while you seem to think a lot more than pictures are about you. Was it thinking that people were obsessed with you that upset you? Or was it the realization that people actually were not obsessed with you and would easily step back at a moments notice that hurt you so much?

You were once easy to admire, in person and spirit as well as in image... and in the end you were easy to walk away from. Seems pretty average considering the above average quality of you encouragement that was once so well received, as well as the inspiration your photographs once provided.

Phil said...

"Like Oedipus, I couldn't look away. Next time I'm tempted, I'll go in the next room and hand out cigars. "

Or scratch your eyes out!