I don’t take off my shirt. Not at the beach. Not in the park. Even in the dark — especially in the dark! —You will always see me wearing something. It’s not like I’m particularly uncomfortable with my current body. It’s just that sometimes I think the version of me I want the world to see isn’t ready for release yet.
It has been like this for a while. Growing up, I was a competitive athlete who loved food, and this combination just didn’t match my body image. What I went through was very mild compared to what many other men argue, but I can understand everything, so to speak. Years later, I’ve been trying to stay in an almost healthy and stable place. I eat what I want and am generally satisfied with how I look. But I have my quirks, and so the body dysmorphia in the bedroom is covered by a baggy shirt. I could pretend to hate the beach and tell myself that the only men who take off their shirts at the park are the thirsty ones who show off their bodies (because it’s true). These are things I can live with. But lately, it’s weddings and office days that matter. It’s not that I intend to go topless in the conference room, it’s just that I can really hate how I look in a button-down shirt.
I think most people are more sensitive to the idiosyncratic features of their bodies than any outside observer, and I am no exception, so here it is: I weigh about 180 pounds and stand 6 feet tall. 2 inches with a small but excessively long ankle. , modest thighs, plump bottoms, and pretty much everything else is slim. This may seem normal to you, but I swear it can be complicated. Pants that fit my waistline are often too wide. A pair of shorts that fit beautifully everywhere else made my crotch look “obscene,” according to a third party. And worst of all, my shirts never seem to be pleated properly, no matter what I spend on them. I have a very specific shirt problem: I sink in most sizes and I find most shirts too tight in all the wrong places, hugging the midsection to create a bouncy bust. he was uncharacteristic and his beer belly protruded that I didn’t wear. really have.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, women go ahead lightly when faced with uncompromising fabrics and less-than-flat cuts. The answer is almost always shapewear, which is extremely tight, which helps to shrink and smooth the lower body of the garment. Underwear is often considered a descendant of the corset, the history of which is quite controversial. I even hesitate to narrate this for fear that I will create a series of upsets Bridgerton fans, but broadly speaking something like this: Since the 1500s, women have worn corsets, and although the ideal look has varied considerably from time to time — and the dress is often less more limited than they are commonly depicted — the intention is generally to shape and smooth. The corset went out of fashion and started in the early 20th century and was replaced by corsets and bras. But compression made a recent comeback with Spanx and its many competitors and imitators. The annual global shapewear market is reported to be $4.4 billion in size and is only expected to grow. Spanx, perhaps more than any other brand that kicked off the segment’s resurgence, was founded in 2000 and is now valued at $1.2 billion. Kim Kardashian’s defining fashion brand, Skims, is valued at $1.6 billion despite launching just before the pandemic in 2019.
As sales figures show, shapewear is a very normal, hated, undeniable part of women’s dressing today, and thus the old debates about cardigans. chest continues on more modern garments. People want the look of a slimmer waist with a bigger bust and bottom but are doubly uncomfortable by clothing that’s too tight – and with the idea that their body needs to be shaped. Like a letter to the editor in response New Yorker Profile Sara Blakely, founder of Spanx, says: “We like to think that women have come a long way in the last century, but the obsession with constricting clothes, and external beauty pay a premium. at the expense of physical comfort, implying that we didn’t.”
https://www.gq.com/story/spanx-for-men Spanx for Men: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Male Spanx