Why a skinny gay man is this size 14 woman’s best friend

I was never a huge fan of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy.  It was a show based on helping slovenly men fool women into thinking they weren't turning their underwear inside out just last week.  Sure, they would clean the guy up and get him new clothes and teach him how to behave in a restaurant, but the changes were only skin deep.  If you'll excuse the expression, the five fab guys were just putting lipstick on a pig and then setting the pig loose on an unsuspecting world.  At the end of each episode, the men all seemed to appreciate that there was a better way to live, but they didn't seem to ever make a deep transformation.  It was all material. 

But that wasn't the only reason I didn't like the show.  The other reason was Carson Kressley.  There's gay, and then there's GAY.  To quote my former neighbor, he's as gay as a handbag full of rainbows.  I hadn't had any gay friends that flamboyant since my college theater days, and I guess I just assumed that once gay men reached adulthood and went out into the real world, they hung up their feather boas and settled down into something closer to Will than Jack.  He just seemed so stereotypical next to the four suave, subdued gentlemen on the screen with him, and for me it was like nails on a chalkboard. 

So, it was with this annoying impression earlier this year that I started watching How to Look Good Naked, Carson Kressley's so-much-more-than-a-make-over show on Lifetime.  And I was blown away.  The very traits that made me cringe at watching him with tough, hairy men made him perfectly suited to palling around with women.  But he doesn't just show women how to dress.  He shows them how to be confident and how to love themselves.  I don't know how so many women grow up to hate themselves.  It snuck up on me.  But I ended up right there with all those other women, walking around in jeans and sweatshirts for years, trying to hide myself.

Before Carson, makeover shows prettied up the outsides of women, without touching their insides.  I cringe when I remember shows like Extreme Makeover.  The women on that show all turn out to be big-lipped, big-boobed pageant wanna-bes.  After their family members bad-mouthed them in taped pieces, they would undergo weeks of surgery and exercise, and then were rushed into a big reveal in front of those same shallow family members and friends.  I often wonder what happened after the show was over, when there was no make-up person to slap on the distracting colors, no hair person to tease the hair over the face-lift scars.  They probably did not have strong inner cores to begin with if they went on a show that promised to change their lives through nose jobs and tummy tucks.  After the show, after the bright lights and crowds are gone, all they're left with are new hairstyles, sore bodies, and the memories of all of the horrible things their families said about them before the makeover (encouraged by the producers, of course; this is TV, it's not exciting unless your whole family seems to hate you).

It seemed for a long time that the only choice for those of us not happy with our bodies was either learning to accept ourselves as we are and resign ourselves to a life of ill-fitting clothes, or totally remake ourselves into something unrecognizeable.  And then came Carson.  Carson, who can look at any woman and tell her ten great things about her body.  Carson, who has the sense to show these women how much they are loved by those around them.  Carson, who knows which jeans go with which ass.  Carson, who is like your best girlfriend, personal shopper, and mentor all in one.

He doesn't tell women not to lose weight.  He doesn't tell women that they should just be themselves.  He helps women discover the best of themselves.  He helps them see that until they truly love themselves, they can't be the very best versions of themselves possible.

Despite what Sarah Palin (a former pageant queen) would like us to believe, you can love something and strive to make it better at the same time.  Loving something and being proud of it does not preclude admitting that it needs improvement.  And that concept, which had eluded me for decades, was the key to losing 25 pounds and caring what I looked like after years of letting myself go - not hating myself, just not caring.  In sharp contrast to the wrecks I imagine the Extreme Makeover women to be, I can picture Carson's women going forward confidently, taking what they've learned on his show and making themselves into better and better versions of themselves.  Not changing into something unrecognizable, but instead taking what was always there and uncovering it, layer by layer.

Thanks Carson, and I'm sorry I ever doubted you.

This is an original post to NYC Moms Blog. Amy also blogs about parenting in Brooklyn, blogging full time without making any money, and keeping herself sane and comfortable at Selfish Mom, and attempts to keep one step ahead of the stalkers and paparazzi at  Filming in Brooklyn.