Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Imagine a room full of those poster-model bodies. For a moment, I couldn't believe I was one of them, rubbing oil on my naked body with suntan lotion in a skimpy bikini-swimming trunks. You know how we average joes used to wonder what sort of lives these so-called "supermodels" are like, and now I can tell you. It is filled with body-parading pageants, shouts from an adoring crowd, wine, beautiful clothes, some famous people who came in to inspect your body and more flesh flashing. Here lies the problem, I don't have that killer abs, yet I was invited for this pageant. So I thought, what the heck, it could be an eye-opening experience since I've never enter such vanity affairs before. At first, I received a call from the coordinator, instructing me to wait for him so he can view me at the preliminary rounds. To my surprise, our first meeting went straight to the judging finals. The pageant coordinator was responsible in gathering all the male contestants. He took us to a small boutique where we get our measurements and clothes fitting. Some other contestants came in late. I was glad that I befriended another contestant who is also a first-timer in such event. Both of us began to wonder our dwindling chances of winning any titles when more beefcakes entered into the fitting room.
Then comes the choreography. The stage for the catwalk was very narrow. The walls on the side is covered with empty compact discs as decorations, where the lights are reflected from the disco ball above the ceiling. After some catwalk lessons, the coordinator directed us to the make-up room to do our make-up and hair. Some of us, even myself need the make-up artist to paint some powder and foundation on certain parts of our bodies that looks unsightly because of the swimming wear round. I must compliment the hair and make-up artistes for they are extremely attentive to my wants and wishes, especially covering up my upper left should and more colour on my hair (knowing my hair is the only competitive advantage I got, and not my body). The funny thing is, we all have our make-up and hair done before we even put on the clothes. This will risk having our make-up and hair being distorted from the shoving and putting on the fabric of the clothes. The changing of outfits are one of the most revealing part, when some of these designers would come in, at least in my case, almost demanded to see me totally naked. There was an instant when I was putting on my blue with yellow polka-dots bikini trunks on, when suddenly the door of the dressing cubicle open, and I reacted by stopping the door. The person opening the door was one of the swimwear designers, who happened to be one of the judges. There goes my chance of winning the Mr. Sexy Swimwear title, ta-ta....
My walking down the runway caused quite an uproar from the crowd. I felt just so exhilarated and excited when my every move and turn just caused some reaction, aaaas, ooos, gosh...the feeling was very addictive! Cameras were clicking at every turn, and I had to do some poses that I don't quite remember now, probably resulted from the daze of the dizzying camera flashes and smokes on the dancefloor. I fear somehow those photos might appear somewhere in the internet, and my God, I hope it turned out good. A person tends to become vain when partake in such pageants. When guys are gathered in one place almost naked, a few surprising sights can be found. My new friend who was also a first-timer, was enquired by another guy about his painted toe nails, which looks girlish in a room full of macho men. Most of the guys in the changing room would look at their bodies, or compliment each others' bodies or enquire about a certain muscle group that looks good or bad. I am definitely not spared from this fellowship of the bodies, when one of the guys enquired about the lines behind my waist. I never have any knowledge about the lines behind my waist, until another guy said it's probably leftover skin from where my fat was. The guy thought I have lost weight, and all the time I was thinking that I was overweight! Thanks, chap.
The contestants came from other countries too, like Pakistan and Iran, so it gives a sort of international flavour to the pageant. The Pakistani has an erotic fascination towards my left nipple, and rubbed it just to make a point, and a joke. When he got thirsty and couldn't find water while waiting for our turns for the catwalk in the dressing room, I told him he could drink milk by pressing here, pointing at my left nipple where he gently caressed earlier to catch my reaction from his homoerotic gesture. Meanwhile, the Iranian contestant has the most well-defined muscles among us, and also an attitude to match. I asked him him how he got those well-defined pecs politely, and he said he bought it at the 7 Eleven shop nearby. He then poked at my abs and said he saw mine at the local Giant hypermarket. When the Chinese emcee announced the number of the next contestant, and the Iranian asked me to translate because he couldn't understand Chinese, I told him the emcee was just announcing the discount sales of pecs implants at the nearby 7 Eleven.