Rant at Random on the Matter of Mirrors

People say that looks do not matter. The personality shines through the looks. Some days, I feel like I have a huge personality, but I wear my insecurities out in the open. I hate the way I look, and for as long as I remember I dreamt of change. Eight years ago, I stood in the bathroom of my parent’s house. I spread out my lips showing my gums and teeth, and then just let out a short smile. My smile looked large with my top lip showing off my gums and my top teeth looking almost horse-like. The smile promptly faded as I examined my form in the reflective surface. I stood five foot ten inches tall. I cut my hair a few months before, but it remained thick. I had only a few strands of hair around my nipples. The only real chubbiness on my body sat around the waist. I looked over at the scale knowing I weighed around one hundred and seventy pounds. I began to dream of a future life, where this ugliness I saw in the mirror vanished and I grew into the swan I thought every duckling grew into.

The image aged slightly as I thought about my future appearance. The waist slimmed from hours working out at the gym. I let my hair grow longer and shaggy, like the other boys in the class. The hair now held a slight curl, which came from actually spending time on it. I kept the air off my chest one-way one another. Perhaps, I paid to have it waxed stripping the hair off with slight pain, or taking the time to shave it. I learned to smile with my lips closed. I thought about wearing a pair of skinny jeans and a white shirt over a swimmer’s build.

Today, I looked in the mirror and saw how I am. Hair culminates across my chest, on my arms, down my legs, and over my back. My head remained the only place not covered with hair. My forehead as the years passed continue to grow higher. My stomach hardly changed, except for the addition of the hair. I wear large glasses given to me by the U.S. Navy. I wear only a pair of shorts I owned in high school ripped at the seams and falling apart. My wide smile just reminds me of my grandma or my mom. The balding and hair resembles my grandfathers. I stand the shortest of the Bell men, but I feel okay with that fact.

I hypothesize that eight years from now, I probably look about the same. I might lose or gain a few pounds, but will remain semi-active without owning a vehicle. My hair may continue to recede, and at that point I will choose to cut it shorter than ever before. My smile will always show my teeth and gums, but somewhere down the line I shall lose these large glasses and get smaller frames or perhaps even my first set of contacts. I hope my tattoo marks the biggest change in my appearance. I want a Time Lord seal on the back of my right calf, and a stylized Ouroboros on my left to keep the circular images equal. Regardless of the tattoos or even going bald, working out makes me feel better about my appearance. I feel healthier, and maybe look healthier.

Some days, my hair stands straight up like a faux hawk because of the baldness. Some days, I feel I look terrible without a hat. A few of my friends say they survive on the ‘fat and happy diet’. Some days, I do not even think about what I look like. I wish that some day I would never, but that society and my lifestyle will never interact. I live a semi-shallow existence, but that does not mean I can’t find happiness in the mirror. It just might take another eight years.