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8-28-03 // 1.12 pm I can hear the laughs when they find I've fallen down again NP: bits and bobs of three different Freedy Johnston LPs Sometimes I look at myself in the mirror and wish I could float outside of the body this mind inhabits. There are dark circles under my eyes. My head is topped with flippy, silly blonde hair with innate cowlicks that have refused to sit straight since childhood. I carry an extra 10 or so pounds of belly that I've been trying to shed for half a decade but can't, regardless of how much exercise I put in or how meticulously I curb my diet. My fingers have rough, ugly nails, brought about by an embarassing nail-biting habit that's continued unabated into adulthood. My feet are flat, causing me to walk on my toes, not heel to front like a normal person. On the plus side, I've been told said affliction also would trigger an exemption should I ever be drafted, but still. My skin is like a factory second, hopelessly dry and unattractive. I used to like to grow a beard, though I've sort of gone off it since there's a patch of hair on the underside of my chin that refuses to come in all the way, and it's infuriating. Of course, there's what I'd say is too much hair everywhere else -- a nearly Robin Williams-esque level of Yetidom is horrific. My tongue is crisscrossed with weird grooves and canyons. All my life, my respiratory system has been weak. Not asthmatic, but simply inadequate. Mold, smoke, pollen -- seemingly everything makes me sneeze. As a child, I was in and out of doctor's offices constantly with sinus infections, which would manifest themselves seemingly without warning. As I've progressed into adulthood, things have somewhat improved, yet there are times when I wish I could just rip out the ductwork. Yes, this is a pathetic, self-pitying laundry list. Also yes, some of all this is my own fault. And no, I'm not fishing for compliments. Regardless, that's how I feel about my body sometimes. Though of course, there are also times where I appreciate the weirdness of this shell my genetic code has seen fit to construct. It's a strange suit, definitely flawed, but it's mine. I like it in that it's unique. If there's one thing I am, it's unique. It's not that I don't like myself. I'd say that after years and years of self-loathing, I'm finally able to accept and like who I am, both physically and mentally, which is important. Still, it doesn't mean that once in a while I don't wish that when I look into the mirror, the reflection staring back at me was someone else.
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