My Mirror

File Under: Reflection

Recently I received an odd email that included the question “when you look in the mirror, do you like what you see?” I didn’t directly reply to the email but since the composer was commenting on things that were read in my blog, I guess this is a reply of some sorts. Perhaps it will be seen, maybe not. I was going to leave it alone but even weeks after the email, friends are still talking about how bizarre it was. This could go on for a bit, go get yourself a drink, or scroll on to the next post.

Alright, let’s start with the physical analysis. I’m 5’9” tall. I weigh 158 pounds. I was 165 back in December but imagine that, I lost weight over the holidays and I’ve kept it off. Yay me! More on that in a bit. I’ve got thinning hair. I’m okay with that. I know, if I had hair it would be great hair but I don’t and what I have is fine. When I let it get long, it stands straight up and it looks Muppet-like. I have green eyes. Sometimes I wear glasses because my vision sucks. I have to wear some sort of prescription lenses in order to not walk into walls. I’m not legal to drive without glasses or contact lenses. I have a mole on my left cheek. Every so often a hair grows out of it and I need to pluck it. It’s hard to shave a mole. Aside from the occasional hair, I like my mole. It makes me unique. I’ve got good teeth. My upper teeth are nice and straight my lower teeth are crooked but they don’t look too bad.

I’m of average weight for my body size. I look pretty good at this weight. I work out regularly, my upper arms are defined, and my chest looks okay. I don’t have great pecs, but at 42, I don’t have man boobs, either. I’ve got a tummy, it’s a family trait, my dad had one too. I do ab crunches and sit-ups at the gym but it will never be gone. I guess I just do what I can to keep it at a minimum.

(This part gets a bit personal but I’m going for full disclosure here so skip this next paragraph if you’re sensitive)

I’ve got a decent penis. What I lack in length, I make up for in girth. If I had another inch I’d be really happy but I don’t and that’s alright. What I have works just fine and received generally favorable reviews of it. I’ve got a nice ass. This I know. It’s round and not flabby. It’s not as great as Dan’s but It looks damn good in a pair of jeans. Again, given the fact that I’m 42 and my ass isn’t sagging, I’m rather proud of it.

Not sure what to say about my legs. I suppose they look good. My feet on the other hand are ugly. I do not have pretty feet. I’ve broken my little toes on both feet so many times they kind of fold under the 4th toe. My big toes bend inward and my right big toe is calloused. Having said that, my left foot was pretty enough to garner some attention at the gym a while back. While the whole foot thing isn’t my cup of tea, who am I to deprive someone else their pleasure.

Okay, I don’t have a special mirror that allows me to look inside, this is just my observation of what’s going on inside.

I’m a good person. I am responsible; I work in a profession where people depend upon me to receive a paycheck that is on time and correct. Further, some depend on me to perform my tasks on a timely basis so they can begin working. I’m the face they see after they’ve been offered a job; I’m the face they see when they are learning about their benefits.

When I’m not at work, I’ve got family responsibilities. My elderly mother lives with me. She’s mainly self-sufficient; I just make sure that she does things like take her pills, check her blood sugar and eat when she’s supposed to. In doing so, I have given up the freedom a 42 year old single gay man might have. For now, it’s the way things have to be. (Improper English, ending a sentence with a preposition).

I balance things out with the most amazing group of friends a guy could want. My best friend Dan is my defender, my confidant and my rock. My partner in crime and the person with whom I share a brain is Vahona. To this day we can get together and finish each other’s sentences. She and I get together and just laugh until it hurts. Steve is another friend with whom I share a brain. We meet for happy hour martinis and just laugh at the most insane stuff. What’s funny is that Steve and Dan are friends from way back, before I knew either of them. When we’re all out, Steve and I will go off on some tangent, resulting in a great deal of laughter, Dan will look at us and just shake his head.

The list of friends goes on and on, from Lynn, with whom I’ve known since our first day of Kindergarten, to my pal Patrick, who, when we’re imbibing in adult beverages, is the “Patsy” to my “Edina.” I have great coworkers who I consider to be great friends. We go out and have lots of fun, but when we’re at work its all business.

And, imagine this. As an angst-ridden 14 year old, I found comfort in the music of The Go-Go’s. They broke up, the reunited, they broke up again, and reunited again…the story goes on and on. 28 years later, they’re still around, somewhat. I somehow managed to become somewhat familiar with the band and consider Jane to be a friend of mine. In my book, that’s pretty damn cool. :)

Even with all those friends, I can go out by myself and still have a good time. I’ll strike up a conversation with anybody when I’m out, and I find entertainment in just watching the crowd. Sure, I’d prefer to be out with friends but rather than sit home, I will go out and perhaps make a new friend.

Are there things I don’t like? Sure. I wear my heart on my sleeve. I fall fast and hard when I meet people, even when I try to hold back. I am generous to a fault, sometimes when it means having to give up something for me. I’m also kind of messy. Not dirty, I’m just not good about managing clutter. I have a bit of a short fuse; I get easily frustrated with people. Not all people, just the stupid ones. As a result, I swear a lot.

But, going back to paragraph one and answering the question “when you look in the mirror, do you like what you see?” Let’s see… I’m 42 years old and I’m a reasonable attractive guy with a decent body. I’ve got flaws but I can identify them. I don’t stress over them. I’ve got a big heart, a fun loving personality. I love to laugh, and I’ve got a diverse collection of friends who enjoy spending time with me. Rock stars know my name and hug me when they see me. So yes, I like what I see. As a matter of fact, I LOVE what I see. I fucking ROCK!

Any further questions?