At some point a true narcissist lived in my room. I say this because on the wall above my bed is a massive mirror.
I hate it.
I’m not a fan of mirrors, they kind of creep me out. I don’t know why, but I suspect that its because of countless horror movies, and it is unnerving because sometimes you’ll see something move in the reflection that catches you by surprise. I’m kind of a twitchy bastard, for example, hair in my peripherals regularly causes a “What was that?” panic.
I’m not a vain man, and I usually just use mirrors to pull funny faces while I brush my teeth, but this big one means I am confronted with my own face far too much. But I can deal with my face, I may not be Brad Pitt, but I’m comfortable with my face, despite my inability to grow decent facial hair.
No, what I really hate is seeing the rest of me.
Similarly there’s a mirror in the bathroom (I now have the Beat song in my head) which I frequently catch myself in as I hop out of the shower. Sometimes its actually a good thing, as I am noticing that I’m losing weight slowly but surelly, but occasionally its enough to spark some serious self-loathing.
My stomach I can just about deal with, as I can with most of my physical flaws. But the one thing that really bothers me are my moobs.
For the uninitiated:
Moobs= Man + Boobs
First of all, I hate the term moobs. You know what we should have called them? Mannaries. Its a little classier and I think funnier. Moobs just seems lazy. But whatever, a rose by any other name and all that.
They just look horribly unattractive, and I’m a boob man, so you’d think I’d love having 24 hour access to tits. I’m never going to be the kind of guy who’s comfortable walking around shirtless, I mean, sure I went without in Sri Lanka due to the heat, but I kept a t-shirt close by so I could quickly cover up if anybody approached.
Which just seems ridiculous thinking about it. I mean, I’m clearly a chubster, its not like if I was to take my shirt off that people would be expecting me to look like Leonidas or something.
The problem is, while I’m feeling increasingly positive about myself and my body, the other day after a run I was seriously bummed out. I have a couple of T-shirts that I wear to go jogging and they’re a bit too big for me. The other day as I walked back I realised that they hang very unflatteringly on my frame, and, particularly as the gut gets smaller, they seem to accentuate my chest.
Were people actively looking at them? What did people think? Do I look like Meat Loaf in Fight Club?
For hours after I felt uncomfortable and insecure, before finally the . And came roaring back today as I sat here trying to think of something to write about.
Hey, Chris, I’ve got an idea for a topic.
What’s that muse?
Why don’t you do a whole piece about the self-loathing you have because of your man tits?
The worst thing was that afterwards I started worrying even more. I felt insecure and bad about it, and of course started playing a game of “worst case scenario”.
What if losing weight is making it worse? What happens if the rest of me slims down but the mannaries stay the same size? They’ll look even worse then! I mean, when I’m fat all over, its just another fat part of me.
But a thin (okay, thinner) guy with them? They’ll stand out a lot more.
Are there any exercises that are good for reducing mannaries (I’m going to keep using it ’til it catches on)? I have no idea, I’ll look into it. But I’m guessing its unlikely, the only chest related exercise I know of is from some Channel 4 show I saw where the female presenter (Anna Richardson?) did this exercise with a chant “I must, I must, I must improve my bust”.
It just seems unfair that I should be overburdened with chesticles while there are women out there who wish their cups would runneth over. I wonder if there’s some way I could donate them to some underdeveloped young lady.
Man, I’m a whiny bitch aren’t I? I promise the next blog will feature at least 50% less self loathing and insecurity.
Any thoughts? You know what to do. TTFN
Listened to today: Mirror in the Bathroom- The Beat, Slayer’s Reign In Blood album, Friends Will Be Friends- Queen.