I’m a big strong man, but I identify as an androgynous little boy with an enormous clitorous. I talked to my doctor about this and he asked me if I was kidding with him. I told him that big strong men like me rarely kid.
He told me I should see a psychiatrist, which I found to be extremely offensive. But he explained to me that body dysmorphia comes in many forms. Did you know there’s an experiment to test the self image of people with eating disorders? They look at a picture of themselves on a computer and are asked to adjust the picture until it looks like they do. People with bulimia and anorexia always adjust the picture to look way fatter than they actually are.
Still, I don’t see what this has got to do with me. I’m a big strong man, not some androgynous little boy or girl with an eating disorder. I’d like to be, but I’m not. That’s what I was trying to explain in the first place.
Can one of you just change my body for me? I already sold my soul to be Spiderman, but I can sell you my cat’s soul. I also have three Asian prostitutes locked up in my basement and a goldfish. You can have their souls, too.
Big Strong Man Tobey Maguire
Dear Tobey Maguire,
I didn’t even realize you were still alive. What was the last movie you were in? Could it have been that train wreck Spiderman 3? No, that can’t be right—that was, like, 10 years ago. I’d look it up on IMDB, but my internet connection is really slow. Absolute freedom up here in Heaven means no Net Neutrality laws, so the Internet Service Providers keep artificially slowing down the connection so they can charge more for improved speed. They’re real assholes, when it comes down to it. I can’t for the life of me remember why I let these guys into Heaven in the first place, but it’s making me re-think my “no backsies” policy. Anyway, back to your question. Yeah, honestly, I don’t really give a shit what you do. Cut off your dick, sew on an extra one, get breast implants, take hormones, stop eating and become emaciated, eat nothing but bacon and become obese, graft on a permanent clown nose—what you do with your body is your own business. Just don’t expect me to do anything about it. I made you the way I did, and that’s the last work I plan to do on you. You think it’s easy to make a human? Well, it’s not, and that’s why some of you come out a little messed up. If you don’t like how you came out, I gave you all three choices: 1) change what you can; 2) don’t change anything and accept yourself as-is; or 3) don’t change anything and be miserable about it. I don’t recommend that last option. Otherwise, don’t bore me with this shit.
Sorry, I got a little worked up back there. The truth is, I can be kind of a sensitive artist. When people don’t accept themselves exactly as they are, I often take it personally. But that’s on me. With all the improvements in modern technology, people can be whatever they want and it’s kind of hypocritical of me to not be OK with this. I’m working on being more understanding in that regard. On the other hand, it isn’t completely out of character for me to be hypocritical. I guess you’ll just have do what you want and wait until Judgement Day to see where I land on this.
—Jesus the Ambiguous
Changing bodies is my specialty, actually. The Nutty Professor, Big, Vice Versa, Like Father Like Son, All of Me—those movies are all based on real events for which I’m responsible. Filmmakers took creative license with the trite Hollywood endings (where everything goes back to the way it was) but I can’t fault them for that. That’s just showbiz. Be forewarned, though. As The Man Upstairs mentioned above, in the real world there’s no backsies. Any changes I make to that sleek body of yours will be permanent. Also, as with any deal you make with the Devil (or a genie or a monkey’s paw), there are likely to be unexpected consequences that make you question your decision. Are people usually happy with the results? Ask Sarah Jessica Parker—she used to be the horse from Mister Ed. When the show got canceled, the animal wrangler made a deal with me to save the horse from the glue factory. He paid using the horse’s (Sarah’s) soul instead of his own. Normally, I expect the soul to come from the person making the deal, but I’ve been known to make an exception occasionally. Unfortunately, the three “prostitutes” you have in your basement are actually robots, so they have no souls. I do have a solution for you, though. Bring me the souls of the three remaining Sex and the City stars and, not only will I give you the body of your dreams, I’ll make sure you never physically age for the rest of your Earthly life. Having Sarah Jessica Parker’s soul has inspired me to get the whole collection. Getting those souls won’t be easy, but if you turn on the ole’ Spiderman charm, I think you can pull it off.
—Satan the Collector
Have an uncomfortable question? Need some advice about your deviant behavior? If so, then it’s time to pray. Email your question to email@example.com, and it shall be answered in a Divine Advice column by Jesus and Satan.