Friday, August 31, 2007


I do not look like myself. I mean that to say, that I don't look like my mental image of my personality. I look less like myself today than at any other point in my life, and I'm not sure what I want to - or can do about that.

At the beginning of the summer I decided to make some physical changes. I cut my hair, which hadn't been cut short in almost 12 years and I got my nose pierced. I also started exercising more and I was dropping weight.

But then the summer got oppressively hectic and I forgot about paying any attention to my appearance. My hair cut, which I was never completely happy with, started growing out strangely. I was happy to have short hair, but I didn't like the initial cut, and though the fix-up cut I got the next day was better, it wasn't great. As it grew, the fact that it was just kind of a bad cut started to show, so I began wearing headbands to combat the strange poofy shape it was taking on.

I started wearing clothes that were comfortable, without giving a whole lot of thought to appearance.

And so, I looked up, one day earlier this week and saw myself in the mirror and wondered how the hell I'd gotten inside that dumpy, middle-aged, middle America, frumpy, bland body. I mean I don't look at all like the creative, funky, open-minded, slight alternative liberal I think of myself as. I look more like someone who belongs in a suburban mall than in a coffee house in Bed-Stuy, or sitting on a rock in Central Park. How did this happen? Who has my body become? And how do I stop it from going on in this direction? Am I going to look up one day and find myself in a cardigan with Christmas trees and snowflakes on it, wearing a matching headband? Oh, I really hope NOT!

So, I woke up today and decided immediate action was necessary. First of all - I am not ever wearing those baggy, long, square-cut, knee-length, cargo-pocketed shorts ever again. I don't care if they're comfortable. I don't care if I can fit money, keys, glasses, tissues, and spare toys and earrings the girls hand me in the pockets. Those shorts took me right over the edge into super-mom-frump, and I have to climb back from there.


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