The Man in the Mirror

Take a look at the picture of me in the sidebar.

What do you see?

A thirty-something guy with (thankfully) all of his hair? Yes.

A half-Italian guy with a big nose? Yes.

A big, buff guy with great abs and a tight ass?

Hardly.

Folks, I’m not going to lie about who I am. I am a big guy. I have a belly. I wear size 38 pants. I have more than one chin. My ass is non-existent, which is a good thing, considering I could have the polar opposite and need two seats in coach on an airplane.

This is the real me. Camera angles can play tricks. I’ve learned that in the short time I’ve owned a digital camera. Who’s going to post an un-flattering picture of himself for all the world to see? Not me. Not you. Not anyone else.

You think I enjoy being this way? Of course I don’t. So why don’t I do anything about it?

Good question.

I wasn’t blessed with a good metabolism. I gain weight just by looking at food. I hate gyms because they intimidate the hell out of me. I’ve tried them, and just couldn’t get into it. I prefer to get my exercise from walking everywhere (which I’m forced to do now that I’m getting rid of my car). Should I do more? Of course I should. But you know what, I’ve reached the point in my life where I just have to say, “If you don’t like me for who I am, then I don’t need you.”

So there it is. Plain and simple. I am who I am. I am WHAT I am. And dammit, if you don’t like it, fuck off.

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