I’m on the subway as I write this.
Heading to some fancy schmancy place a friend suggested I look for new glasses.
It’ll be on Park Avenue. A place littered with trophy wives and their tiny dogs and their Viagra filled elderly husbands.
Hmmm I’m sounding bitter a bit early in this post aren’t I?
Anyway I’m going to try on a few pairs that I think don’t make me look like a hipster doofus and emailing the photo to a few friends. They know what looks good on me better than I.
I went to one store last night with a friend and with every pair I tried on I alsked “What pair makes you want to rip my clothes off. If you didn’t know me I mean”.
Shopping with platonic friends, who don’t want to rip your clothes off, makes it difficut to get a good opinion. Or at least get the reaction I’m hoping for.
I’m really bad at knowing what looks good on me.
Here’s another oddity, I can go days without looking in the mirror.
Even more odd is how getting my photo taken makes me feel uncomfortable.
A new friend asked me to take part in a photoshoot for her. It wasn’t porn…but it did involve me in various states of undress. The odd thing is how I felt more comfortable when she was taking photos below my waist than when she was taking photos of my partially shadowed face. If I had a choice, I’d rather someone take photos of my naked body without my face, than my face in a clothed photo.
Whenever someone takes a photo of my face I feel compelled to make a silky face or do something to cover up.
Photos of my junk or my newly bruised bumm? No probelm.
Most of the photos that my friends see of me on facebook are photos of me taken by me. That I’m comfortable with for some reason.
Anyway, no real point to my post and this is my stop.
Time to go point and laugh at dogs smaller than cats.