“Great.”
“That’s it.”
“Chin up for me.”
“Look slightly to your left.”
“Amazing.”
“And tense your abs slightly for me.”
“Perfect.”
“Now if you can just tense those biceps of yours.”
“You’ve got it. Now hold it.”
The camera continues to snap away as the photographer shouts out commands like an army general, and I couldn’t feel more objectified if I’d tried. Does everyone who appears topless on the cover ofMen’s Healthfeel the same way? Or is it just me?
The younger version of me clearly bought into what they are selling. I’d begged Erica to buy me copies of any magazine that had someone looking like I currently do gracing the cover. In the safety of my room, I’d masturbate vigorously two or three times in a row over them.
But as I’ve got older, my tastes have changed. I no longer findthe Greek Adonis physique that’s so revered by the gay community attractive. Especially now that I know how much hard work it takes, not only to gain the muscle in the first place, but to maintain it.
After what seems like an eternity, Connie wraps the shoot. We’ve already fallen behind schedule due to the live album rehearsals running over. So she’s arranged for theMen’s Healthinterview to take place in the car on the way to the O2.
I still feel sticky, despite Erica’s attempt to wipe me down as we left the shoot. The white T-shirt I threw on is covered in oil marks.
I see the journalist waiting in the car as I get in with Connie and Erica.
“Alexander, this is Claire fromMen’s Health.”
“Great to meet you,” I say, extending my hand to greet her. She’s dressed in head to toe workout gear, blond hair scraped back into a ponytail. A pang of envy rises in my chest at the fact that her job allows her to wear comfy sports attire, while I find myself changing into new looks multiple times a day.
“Well, look at you, you great big hunk of spunk!” she says in a brash Australian accent. Clearly the women here in London are not shy about being forward. I shudder again at the thought of Rita’s clumsy overtures last night, before batting the thought away.
The shift in Connie’s body language tells me she’s picked up on my discomfort, and she reaches for a box of donuts next to her. “We got your favorite,” she says, opening the box to reveal a dozen Red Velvet donuts. I stare at all that sugar, wrapped up into a heavenly package that I’ve been craving for weeks.
Who said you couldn’t fall in love at first sight?
And who said it had to be a person?
But before I allow myself to reach in and take one, I look at Claire.
“Don’t worry, Claire’s been briefed that this is strictly off the record,” Connie says. Claire nods as Connie pushes the box toward me. I take one before Connie passes the box to Erica, who grabs one, and then to Claire, who waves it off, patting her flat stomach.
“Simon showed me some of the raw shots he took before we left, and I think this could be our biggest selling issue since Beckham,” she says.
A smile rises on my face, not at the thought of the sales, but at the exact cover she’s referring to. Oh, I know that one too well.
“Really?” I ask. I take a bite of the donut and the cream bursts into my mouth. God, I really have been missing out these last couple of months.
“Yeah, you look incredible.”
I shake my head, dismissing the compliment. It’s amazing what restricting your diet, working out, makeup, and good lighting can do. I’ve always been told how attractive I am, but I still see a spotty teenager in the mirror.
“Let’s begin by walking our readers through what workout program you use to get in such incredible shape.” She reaches for her notepad and clicks the top of her pen.
“Donuts,” I say, letting out a laugh and then taking another bite.
