2.295. On Appearance and Self-Esteem

I have not cut my hair in months. I shave fairly regularly, but the gray is creeping across my face like morning fog. There are patches of baldness at the top of my head, which started as coin-sized depressions but merged to form a continent of scalp. Elsewhere the hair has thinned to the point where I can suspect where the next depression may form. Through it all, the tide of my hairline is slowly receding. I have bad teeth. Not yellow, not usually, but not white either. They are bone colored teeth in a bed brown gums that show pink in places and bleed when I brush. Below the neck the situation is not much better. I’m fat. Not bulbous. Not the kind of fat where you develop a ‘front butt’ or wheez when you walk. I’m post-athletic fat. I am the remains of a skinny guy who has seen far too many donuts and far too little exercise. My skin is desert-dry. I can carve white letters across any bare expanse of flesh, and I can see the age lines burrowing deeper into me. I am aging, and I no longer look good.

 

Perhaps this is all internalized admonition, but it is completely relevant thought, because my self-esteem is tied into my looks. I want to be able to present a front of confidence, and if I don’t feel good about myself than I don’t treat myself right and don’t carry myself with the grace and confidence that makes up a part of who I am.

 

I am also terribly lazy, so who knows what actually comes of this admonition and revelation? Perhaps I sink into the ugly and cast myself lower and further into darkness. Perhaps instead I fold the gym and other exercise into a daily routine that adds years to my life and even to my skin. Perhaps I learn more about being healthy and take better care of my face, my teeth and gums, my gut. It isn’t as if I have nothing or nobody to live for. The reality of the situation is that once I found myself here it became hard to even understand how to get out.

 

I do have a reason to live. I do want to get out. I do dread the pain and change that comes as a result. Still, it would be great to feel great about me again.