- My large nose. Nora Ephron wrote "I Feel Bad About My Neck" and as an ode to her I write "I Feel Bad About My Nose." It's huge, massive, gargantuan, grotesque. It takes up so much space in this apartment that it should start paying rent. I can't ever do coke because my large nostrils would surely suck up enough for me to overdose my first time around. You shouldn't be able to fit fucking quarters in your nostril holes. Not to mention the size of my pores! Ever used one of those Biore pore strips? My nose is a gold mine I tell you. My dream is to one day hack off this Mr. Potato Head monstrosity and replace it with one of the far more delicate, feminine variety. My only fear is that cutting off my Squidward-esque nose would raise my voice six octaves and I'll sound like I just ingested helium permanently. And the cherry on top of these grievances? I snore like a motherfucker. It's the nose, man. The nose knows.
- My shitty nails. I bit them my entire life down to the quick and then when I stopped I found out that they basically don't grow in properly anymore. The white bit never got past the tip of my finger and so I was cursed to have stubby little nails that did nothing to help my man hands and sausage fingers. So I have to pay every two weeks to have a woman apply fake goop and paint to them to make them look even relatively normal and not like ET's alien pointers. My boyfriend still thinks they are real, God bless him.
- My broad shoulders. I have the shoulders of your average college linebacker. They're perfectly square and extend on two feet of either side of me just like David Byrne from the Talking Heads. I remember wearing a blazer for a job interview once and asking my mother for her opinion on my outfit. "You should really ditch those shoulder pads," my mother offered. "Mom, I don't have any shoulder pads in. Those are just my shoulders." When I walk the shoulders stay firmly put, swaying side to side as if I'm forcing my chest out. These bad boys also cost me extra fabric-- shirts fit tighter than normal, hoodies are too snug, and sometimes I have a fat guy in a little coat moment. Faaat guy in a little coooat.
- My crooked tooth. After my parents spent thousands of dollars at the orthodontist, you'd think I'd have perfectly straight teeth, however, I lost my retainer the first week I got it and my parents refused to pay for another one. My teeth stayed put for the most part, minus one rebel tooth. My front tooth kept getting pushed over time and now it is noticeably crooked and pronounced against the others. I have Tom Cruise syndrome. Tom Cruise syndrome, for those of you who may be wondering, is where you have one tooth perfectly in the middle of your face. I'm sure no one has noticed this but me but it drives me absolutely insane. I've thought about getting adult braces to fix the issue but I'm already embarrassed by my existence alone and I don't want to add insult to injury.
- My lack of chin. I don't have a chin. It's missing from my face. I don't know where it went-- it's probably in another country living under an assumed name with a wife and kids. As as result my face is as round as a bowling ball. Want to see something particularly scarring? Me in a turtleneck. I thought about getting a chin implant but I'm afraid of that area feeling all weird afterward like something is trying to burrow it's way out of my face Alien-style.
- My caterpillar eyebrows. My eyebrows are shapeless. No threader or waxer or make-up artist has ever been able to define them. They do their own thing. It's frustrating for me, especially during a time where everyone's eyebrows are perfection. Mine are just there existing. Asymmetrical and patchy. Lopsided and mismatched. I'd kill to have gorgeous eyebrows-- the kind that look drawn or painted on, deliberate and elegant with no errant hairs. The ones that frame your face correctly. Not my type-- the Wooly Willy style that look like mustaches above my eyes.
may 29 2020 ∞
apr 13 2021 +