Your Mirror Called, It’s Hoping You’ll Take A Good Long Look At Yourself
Before you all get on your high horses and send me the kind of hatemail (that’s hate and email put together folks) that can only be produced by women who love to tell us men how wrong we are (see my blog regarding going sleeveless over forty here http://hubpages.com/hub/Do_Not_Go_Sleeveless_After_Forty_Just_Trust_Me_On_This_One) I just want to say that I’m only telling you this for your own good. And it’s not just for women it’s for men too so save the sexist comments. Your mirror called, it’s hoping you’ll take a good long look at yourself – Don’t Get Me Started!
I just can’t take it anymore. I can’t take looking at people who are wearing the same hair and clothes since they were in high school and now they’re in the forties and beyond. You don’t look adorable in your oversized Tweety bird t-shirt with the denim Capri pants underneath that make your calves look more like the Incredible Hulk after he got angry than fashionable. Gentlemen, you too are victims of your own sense of style that was created from the crinkled up clothing in the back of your drawer for a hundred years. That polo shirt tucked in over your enormous stomach is not a pretty look nor is the ripped up NASCAR or Rush t-shirt that has so much meaning to you but to no one else. It’s official that you also may no longer wear the elastic waist pants that “bodybuilders” wore in the late 1980’s that fall somewhere between M.C. Hammer pants and almost always have a pattern on them that is faded more than your bad hair from the 80’s.
My mate has a theory. That theory is that people get stuck in whatever time period they felt the most attractive. While you may say that the insecurities you feel in high school make that period out of the question, on the contrary, this was the last time you were probably a size four (or for guys a 30 inch waist) so you cling steadfast to the look that you think you saw in the mirror when you were eighteen and are still duplicating it every morning. Let’s face it, by nature we’re creatures of habit. We can’t help ourselves. More than once I’ve mentioned the fact that for very long periods I tend to only look at myself in the mirror from the sternum up. I can’t imagine looking any further down for what I might see (and in how much abundance). I could absolutely be gangrene from the neck down and never know it. My hands move as if on their own accord as they style my hair the way it’s been styled for so long now. For some people, this “routine” or by now “ritual” they perform happens every morning at the same time in the same way and yet the truth of the matter is that your hair is getting thinner, your face is getting wrinkled and no one has worn high bangs like that since Frankie went to Hollywood. While you may be doing the same thing you always have, you’ve changed physically so it does not look the same.
It’s not an easy thing to look at yourself and an even harder thing to accept what you see but I learned a little while ago that keeping that size 30 waist pair of pants in my closet was just taking up space physically and mentally. Mentally, every time I looked into that closet and saw them I was reminded that I no longer was this size and while in year one or two I was able to fool myself that someday I would get back into these pants by year three I felt defeated just opening the closet or knowing they were there. And so they went to Goodwill where I’m sure they did someone else much more than they were doing for me in my closet.
I’m not saying that you can immediately start looking at yourself in a mirror and accept what you see but those of us of a certain age must begin the process, yes? I for example recently ventured a look below my sternum only to find out that of the few hairs I have on my chest there was one gray one that was so long that it most likely crawled its way out of every V-neck shirt I ever wore. Nice appearance, right? This instantly made me my father who has a jungle of hair on his chest and it is constantly sticking out of every shirt so much so that he looks like a stuffed animal wearing a t-shirt two sizes too small. Discovering that you’ve become your parents is another topic for another day but this hair was definitely a reminder that similar to Gene Wilder in Young Frankenstein where he’s having a nightmare and keeps chanting, “Destiny, destiny, no escaping that’s for me.” We all, like it or not become our parents a little or a lot. Long story short, the hair on my chest got shorter too. I cut it to a nub. So even though it’s the last thing I want to do, I can’t help but feel a little more evolved for having taken that look in the mirror a little lower than I had before. It won’t be like tearing off a Band-Aid but you gotta do it ‘cause I can’t look at you and your stuck fashion, style and life sense (and neither can anyone else). And if you think we’re judging you, you’re right. And guess what? You didn’t even make it past the preliminaries to become a finalist (pageant reference). Your mirror called, it’s hoping you’ll take a good long look at yourself – Don’t Get Me Started!
Read More Scott @ www.somelikeitscott.com
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