Once again, this morning I took out the hedge clippers and eliminated yet another facial hair configuration. I change my beard options more often than most people change their sheets. I don't know why, but I have this constant need to try and define what it is I'm supposed to look like, as if finding the correct configuration of hair, clothing, etc. will give me some kind of insight into who I actually am.
There are better reasons to change one's looks of course. There is a certain novelty in being able to radically alter your appearance with little repercussion (work doesn't care, and after thirteen years, I think I could come home with a spider web tattooed on my face and Management would just ask how much I paid for it). Plus, I figure if the government is spying on me, at least this keeps them on their toes. Make them update their databases once in awhile.
I think I personally do it for several reasons. I do have a certain amount of identity confusion right now. I sort of feel like I'm totally defined in terms of other people. I'm sure a lot of you know what I'm talking about. I'm a programmer for my employer, a parent of the Moose and the Princess, husband and general lackey to Management. Sometimes it's a little unnerving to realize that when I find myself alone, I'm not exactly sure who it is I'm supposed to be. It makes a person uncomfortable, and I usually just clean up the mess, bury the body, and find someone else to hang out with. So like I said earlier, I keep thinking that if I knew what I was supposed to look like, maybe that would give me some insight.
This morning a strange thing happened though. Every time I go clean shaven, I have the same reaction: I look just like my father. Frankly, I think I grew my little beard and mustache just because part of me didn't want to wake up every morning and see him. I have enough issues. Looking into a dead man's face isn't exactly what I call comforting.
Well this morning when I placed razor to skin, I admired the results and for the first time in ages, I didn't see him at all. It was just me - my chin, my eyes, my tiny scars that no one else sees but me. I'm not sure what that means, but one thing is certain.
I'm almost dangerously good looking.
2 comments:
You ARE good looking!!!! Now, don't let it go to your head!
(Why do you have to check my vision by typing in these funny looking letters? ...and I really do know my password but this won't accept it! It kinda ticks me off!)
Wuv Ya,
The Mom-In-Law
The funny looking letters are there to prevent programs that use comment areas in blogs to spam. While I moderate the comments so no one sees any of the spam that comes in, this makes my life a lot easier.
Post a Comment