FANTASTIK PLASTIK
Another white elephant in the room:
What constitutes as socially-acceptable body modification?
It would seem to me that an individual’s sensuality is marked by how ‘natural’ or how ‘pure’ their body is, depending perhaps on how much their birthday suit has been modified over the course of their lives (no one ever saw Aphrodite’s ink, naturally). Sexual appeal on the contrary, it would appear, is very rarely hindered by modifications.
To consider plastic surgery, first of all, the first thing that comes to mind on my part is the funny-looking elderly women at the water park with breasts just a little too perky for a grandmother, Joan Rivers, and our late friend M.J., of course. Like it or not, an individual with enough cash can get, well, just about anything done to their bodies. Do we draw the line at what can be socially acceptable at modifications that appear realistic? If so, I suppose having your ears shaped into Captain Spock’s doesn’t make the social cut. Or rather, do we accept modifications, without pointing or sneering, under the condition that the surgery is justified by something internal, like perhaps, a transgendered man having his breasts removed? The question remains, does a woman, having her face transformed into that one of a cat, still remain sensual?
Turn yourself inside out.
Let us now consider the increasing popularity, or social acceptance, of body art. In a society where a biological male can become a woman legally and physically, where social networks let all your secrets show, we’ve become increasingly comfortable with wearing our personalities on our sleeves, literally. Hardly a couple decades ago, tattoos were reserved as emblems to marginal communities: pulling up your sleeves to reveal a tattoo the size of a Loony was considered, to put it frankly, bad ass, to say the least. Recently, piercings and tattoos have become mainstream enough that recognition is given to the sensual nature of someone letting it all hang out. In the same breath, although the association to rebellion that body art once had has somewhat dissipated, no one of a more liberal entourage will argue that tattoos can be sexy.
It would seem that as a society we’re now quick to accept an individual’s body art, for better or for worse, but any modifications to the body itself is constrained to justification. Is plastic surgery really that severe? For lack of a better illustration, you can paint the house as much as you’d like but don’t go changing the structure unless you have to.
Picture this: you sit at a small table outside at the peak of summer- early afternoon and the light plays with the items you have laid out for your small feast: washed and fresh purple grapes, a large bottle of red, a baguette from the bakery next door, a few of your favorite cheeses and perhaps a little paté or prosciutto to go with your bread. Across the table from you there is a beautiful individual, smiling, in a linen shirt; in this light you can see the outline of their perfect torso. After a charming conversation and an almost-too-perfect lunch, your companion reaches over with their index finger and wipes away the drop of wine at the corner of your mouth. You smile and lead them, by the hand, to your apartment. What do you think happens next? Given what has just happened at lunch, do you put on some soft music and dance along to the soft buzz of the red wine? Or do you and your companion make an afternoon of ravishing each other’s bodies?
Born and bred to Canada’s sin city, I can hardly bat an eye at neon signs depicting naked women, and long ago did I stop giggling at overly-suggestive business names like “Club Super Sexe”. In a city where the borders of European and North American culture collide, sensuality is held up as something of a virtue, a healthy appreciation of life that can manifest itself in body and in one’s lifestyle. That being understood, I can’t help but wonder, what constitutes as sexual and what constitutes as sensual? Where do the lines blur between what is outrageously carnal and what is beautiful and tender?
It’s not to suggest that what is sexual cannot be sensual, by no means. I’m simply curious as to why sensuality has a hard time standing on it’s own. Images of bible-thumpers condoning ‘permiscuous behavior’ seem to be juxtaposed with images of women in physically compromising positions. I’m led to believe in some ways the ambiguous limits to curves, deep reds and provocative language are all a product of a continent simultaneously sexually stuffed and starved.
Let’s take it to the limit.
Follow me to undress and uncover sensuality in a world of prudes and perverts, love and desire.
