Someone in my household decided to do some spring cleaning today and miraculously uncovered a huge box filled with magazines I've kept since I was a teen. The monochromatic front covers of ripped male models and virile men will tell you that these magazines were pre-eminently 7 year old editions of Men's Health.
As a closeted gay teenager, owning a copy of Men's Health used to be one of my guilty pleasures in life. One because I was in lust with the topless athletic cover models and feature write-ups on some of the hot guys. My purchase of a month's edition depended greatly, if not entirely on the 'selling factor' of the cover models themselves.
Two was because I was highly motivated by the many 'short-cut-to-amazing-abs' and 'miracle chest' work out plans to transform myself into something with a bit more confidence. Back then, I harboured this discreet plan to work out silently on the side in hopes of rivalling my schoolmates and gradually gain some attention. But sadly, this fantasy of mine never materialised.
It's been 7 years, and holding these magazines in my hand inevitably brings back memories of how I felt during those times. I clearly remember how although these journals provided me with a visual outlet for my homosexual fantasies, but yet deep down inside, I worry incessantly about how I was ever going to get myself out of this "wrong", "filthy" habit of fantasising about masculinity.
In addition to that, I was a scrawny awkward boy who felt so out of place, staring inadequately into the pages of Men's Health. I wanted nothing more than to outgrow myself into an attractive young adult. For the magazines themselves painted a perfect picture of what I desperately wanted to happen for me, along with my unconscious desires of idolising another man. I obviously at that age, couldn't decipher what all these confused sentiments meant.
I had the intention of throwing these magazines out at the thought of not wanting to turn into a hoarder. But somehow, I just couldn't bring myself to do it. These magazines may have been sequestered away in a box, but they continue to excavate feelings out of me until this very day. They remind me very much of the time that has passed and the distance I've come. Therefore I'm keeping them with me for a little while longer. Perhaps now is really the time to put those specific work out articles to good use.
Hi there,
ReplyDeleteNice writings, it brings back some memories of mine. I, too, stash some men’s health mags. I hid them in my mother’s old table in the attic. I guess we all have that guilty pleasure when we were growing up.
Keep on writing! Would love to see the rest of your journey
PS: Since someone found your stash, then what happened to them?
Thank you. I've decided to keep them with me for memories. I left them in the same box that it was discovered in.
DeleteMen's Health didn't exist when I was becoming conscious. While there were some bodybuilding magazines around, their publishers had no knowledge of the concept of art. They were drab and uninspiring. The best I could do was a copy of the Kinsey Report that my father thought he had hidden which, as clinical as it was, I found enlightening and titillating beyond my wildest imagination. To this day, the written word can be much more erotic for me than pictures, although the latter will do in a pinch.
ReplyDeleteHahaha. I too prefer the written word when it comes to erotica. It just leaves so much more room for visualisation and imagination.
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