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Shallow John

John W. Pinkerton


It occurred to me this morning that vampires have an advantage over me: mirrors do not reflect their images.

Yesterday while playing with my new computer, I found the computer's built-in camera.

There I was looking back at me from the screen.  Holy moly!

I was more than a little shocked by the old guy staring back.

Look, I was never a handsome dude, but this is ridiculous---wrinkles and puffiness and  cancerous spots. 

If the role of the hunchback of Notre Dame comes up, I'm your…man?

I realized some months ago that I had unconsciously been avoiding mirrors.  At first I attributed this to the fact that I don't see well. Nope, I see well enough not to take a good look at myself.

I still get out in public.  Mostly I just wait in the car while Linda runs her errands at Wal-Mart or HEB or a garage sale.  I don't remain in the car because of my appearance:  breathing problems limit my mobility.  Boy, is that an understatement. 

Once a week, we go to our favorite restaurant.  Before leaving the house, Linda and I apply several band aides to my bruises and cancers.  That makes me a little more normal looking than Quasi Moto.

Obviously I would prefer not to look like a swamp monster, but being that I was never very pretty as a youth, it's not really a shock to my nervous system that it has gotten worse.

I wonder how well handsome and pretty folks adjust to their declining appearances.  I suspect most of them do just fine: they're probably not as shallow as I am.