Has anyone ever watched Embarrassing Bodies on Channel Four?
Ok, I admit, that's a bit of a stupid question - who hasn't be forced to watch
it by their overly interested friends and family at some point? As a society, watching other people on TV who
have abnormal issues with their bodies makes us feel somewhat better about
ourselves. We breathe a little easier
and add a few more dollops of mayonnaise to our chips , while laughing at
someone's haphazard boob job, turning to disgust as we realise their 'tits' are
actually two massive hernias on their stomach. We enjoy deluding ourselves in the comfort that the possibility of us ever
having to reach out to a TV show like that for help is a billion to one. We like to think that,
because we have watched someone have surgery on their foreskins or have great
lumps of fat cut from their bodies, we have a little more knowledge on the
subject of health that your average Joe.
How can that be true? Frankly, I spend half my time averting
my eyes and screaming silently in a corner when Embarrassing Bodies comes on.
Come off it, no one actually wants to watch the surgery going on, and no one
actually wants to learn what to look out for in case we all turn into hypochondriacs
and start googling ourselves. (Don't say you've never done it.)
If you're aspiring to be a doctor, a nurse or you just want
to mislead yourself in to believing you've contracted HIV when you have an ear
infection then, sure, Embarrassing Bodies is the show for you. It's quirky,
with good looking doctors, some nice theme music in the background and with a
few family friendly images.
I'll spare those of you who have only seen the adverts,
(that want to make you change the channel in themselves), the gory details.
What I will say, though, is that I have never sat through any other program for
sixty minutes gasping with horror and hiding behind my hands all the while. Not
even while watching any of the Saw
movies.
The gist of the program is that patient, who is too embarrassed
to see their local doctor, decides to broadcast their problems to the world,
which, their doctor will probably see anyway. Each patient is videoed waiting
to be seen, sitting on some green sofa in a room that can only be described as
limbo-like. Everything looks nice and relaxed and normal, until they enter the
surgery and pull down their trousers or take off their tops to reveal their
inverted penis/ stomachs covered in craters. They don't even pix-elate this stuff! Cue whimpering and being sick.
It's fascinating though. Not just because I get to see
something that TV just shouldn't allow, but also because I just cannot fathom
why anyone would choose to go on there.
Most clips of the patients sitting nervously in the limbo room on the
green sofa, start with them going into detail about their illness , which is
far too embarrassing for them to go to their doctor with. That's all fine and dandy, but their logic fails me when I wonder
why they're happy to get their bits out on national television, but not in the
privacy of a doctors surgery... It's
mind boggling, especially when people come in and say they can't find a 'beau',
because they're too embarrassed. I'm sorry guys and gals, but showering the
general public with your embarrassing problems won't spruce your love lives up.
Now, I'm aware that there are some genuinely desperate
people who go onto the show because they've tried everything and are at their
wits end. These are the people I feel genuinely sorry; not only for their
suffering with such a difficult condition, but also because most of us watch
them, wrinkling our noses and pretending to vomit behind the sofa. Plus, the
form you have to fill in to even be within a chance to get on the show is
bloody long, you have to send in a head shot of yourself and outline every
detail of the problem you have. It would be less time consuming to pop into
your GP. And even after all that, there is no guarantee that you'll get
treatment. So you may not even get the lipo and tummy tuck you were planning to
look fabulous for Tenerife.
Despite hastily putting down my knife and fork when the show
comes on, I suppose that I understand the message that it's trying to spell out
to the British public. It's common
knowledge that we Brits don't really like to make a big fuss. We're far too
polite, what with all our scone eating and crumpet buttering taking up our time
to be loud, brash and mean.
Basically, I think that the point of the show is to make it
clear to us lot that we need to get ourselves sorted when we notice a problem,
and not five years down the line when our toenails start to go yellow and drop
off. We just don't really know enough
about looking after ourselves these days, because we either don't want to or
there isn't enough awareness raised to urge people to get themselves checked
out. According to my latest doctor,
(they keep leaving to serve the primary care system of Merthyr - The Family
Planning Clinic), I was depressed for about four or five years before I got
diagnosed, and that was simply because I just didn't know what I was feeling
wasn't right. Additionally, I kept telling myself the problem would go away and
there was nothing to worry about. Looking at where I am now, I realise that the
poor way in which I handled that situation was possibly one of the biggest
mistakes I've made to date.... I did say to date. There are defiantly more to
come...
The point is we
should not and cannot leave our embarrassing body problems to go away by
themselves, and we cannot keep putting off a visit to the doctors. It's detrimental
to our health and frankly, especially when we don't know what the problem is
exactly, we have no idea what the long term effects are of our choices when it
comes to our health. We need to wake up, smell the coffee I just
made myself and get ourselves sorted before we have to resort to going under
the knife or sharing our humiliating secrets with the British public.
Anyways, if there is any intelligence rattling around in my
brain, I know this; you will never find me on Embarrassing Bodies. Ever. No
sirrree Bob, nothing embarrassing or humiliating here to declare. Nada. Zilch.
Not a single thing.
Honest!
Well, the point is I wouldn't tell you anyways, even if I
did.
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