This week I will be celebrating the thirtieth anniversary of my thirty-ninth birthday. As with most people I know, I wonder how I ever got this old. The other big question I have is if I want to go to a fancy restaurant on my birthday, where would I go? Reservations for Valentine’s Day are usually filled or at are odd times when people are not generally available.
There’s always McDonald’s – or in our case, Whataburger.
As to the question about how I got this old – well – considering the number of doctor visits I’ve had in the past two years, I’m pretty darn lucky to be here. On the other hand, the visits to the doctor have been a Godsend. Without them, the little bit of cancer in my bowel might have gone undetected and I might have been writing this essay from my deathbed. Now, there’s still the possibility of going outside and being hit by a beer truck – but that applies to just about anybody.
When I take stock of myself in the mirror, I’ve noted that I am far from the ideal specimen of a male human being. I could stand to lose another 40 pounds, need to pad out my skinny butt, slim down my pot belly and I wouldn’t mind having a little more heft to what I tell my wife are my “Hangy Down Parts.” I count at least three visible scars from having one surgeon or another remove or correct something. There are two others, not quite as visible – one on the front side and the other on the inside as the result of a surgeon guiding a robot nicknamed “Karen”.
On the plus side, I still have most of the hair on my head, making me look young for my age. Yeah, some grey is creeping in and there is unwanted hair in my ears (and on my back), but overall, my appearance isn’t that shabby.
Something which I find hard to understand is why so many people obsess over their appearance. A lot of it has to do with the idea that there is an ideal we need to strive for… even if it’s manufactured. For instance, I read a post on Facebook the other morning about a female runner who was depicted in an ad for a certain shoe company. The photo of the runner was taken when she was pregnant. Her belly was photoshopped out of the picture, while her breasts were kept as they were at the time of the photo shoot – larger because of her pregnancy. Flat bellies and large breasts sell shoes, I suppose. The shoemaker has been chastised for the photoshop.
The unfortunate part about photoshopping the way the shoe company did is that young women are now encouraged to have those flat (and untarnished by stretch marks) bellies and large, enticing breasts. Same for us guys. Six-pack abs, muscular arms and legs. Gotta have ’em. Shave in places not normally seen in public and have plenty of hair on top of your head. Unrealistic expectations are hard to achieve. Knowing something of yourself and tweaking what you have is the best thing you can do for yourself.
Yeah, I’m far from the ideal, but lately I’ve been to the gym a time or two a week. Sometimes more. Do I expect to lose gobs of weight? Not really. But I am doing what I need to do to keep myself healthy for at least another decade. If I don’t measure up to an unrealistic expectation, I don’t really care as long as I am happy with myself.
By the way, we made it to a decent restaurant Sunday afternoon before some football game or another. Two days before the birthday, but it was nice to spoil myself now and again.
Now… off to the Gym!
Be Seeing You!
bdharrellauthor 