Surprise Mirrors

For someone who is tortured by weight issues, I am one vain mother-fucker.

Anytime, I see a camera poised for snapshots, I summon my inner Dawn Davenport ("I love flashbulbs!"), turn my head, open my mouth (in faux surprise), tilt my chin and lovingly gaze at the lens (examples here, here, here.....) It’s a look. It’s my personal branding strategy. It’s terribly self-involved, I know it....but it gets me through the day.

sigh......$30,000 in loans for an unused photography degree, but I can at least pose for a photo.

I am, however, always rattled by surprise mirrors.

They're all over the damned mall. There you are, all alone, and even though earlier you were hating yourself coz those jeans at the Gap felt too tight, you still stop by Mrs. Fields and get a cookie and a Coke-Cola. You’re shoving said cookie in your mouth and you turn the corner only to be confronted by a ghastly reflection of yourself in the windows at Express Men. Do they deliberately position them to make your waist look as fucking wide as possible? And must you always encounter a surprise mirror when your dressed your schlubbiest, your hair non-did, retaining 5 extra pounds of water weight and a big ole zit on your chin? Is this some sort of conspiracy to destroy whatever confidence you might gain from impulse shopping?

I hate, hate, HATE surprise mirrors. And there should be a law. Congress seems to be spending time on stupider shit lately.

I had a bit of a self-reflective surprise when I surfed over to Queerday to check out the latest homo news. Lo and behold, there I was:

I cannot even remember when I put that personal ad out there. It is well over a year-and-a-half old (I hadn't even developed my personal branding strategy). Thank God it's a cute photo and my bio reads like I'm slightly kooky and not totally kinky.

Not that I’m not kinky – but that’s a surprise I share on my own terms.

In the bedroom.

With the lights out.