This might come as a bit of a shock, but I was never what you’d call an “Adonis.” Short, bespectacled and built like a chimpanzee with truncated arms, I had to rely on my sense of humor and extensive knowledge of Batman mythology to get dates.
Still, I always tried to look my best.
For a time, I attempted to wear contact lenses, but even the soft ones irritated my eyes. I had trouble focusing and blinked like Joel Osteen watching the collection plates being passed around.
Then I settled on cool eyeglasses. Not Elton John cool, but specs that tended to highlight my big brown eyes and chipmunk cheeks and distract from my ape-like physique. I looked a bit like the dude who fronted the Buggles.
And of course, my hairstyles have been all over the map.
There was the Keith Partridge look, the butt-cut – even a modified mullet at one point in the 1980s. I didn’t adopt a short style until I went through a two decades-long Clark Kent phase.
But now that I’ve reached the age where the only dates I’m interested in getting are the ones high in fiber, vanity shouldn’t be that big a deal.
But it still kind of is.
For example, I went years without paying much attention to my eyebrows, and then one morning I woke up and looked like Mr. McBeevee. If you don’t know who Mr. McBeevee is, he was a character played by Karl Swenson on an episode of “The Andy Griffith Show.” Dude had some wild-ass brows that seemed to take off in several different directions. They were like tiny Medusa snakes.
Anyway, I now find myself having to trim my brows at least twice a week because if not, it looks like a pair of caterpillars are taking naps above my eyes.
And as for hair, I prefer wearing it kinda long but it’s thinning on my crown. I’m afraid if I don’t so something soon, I’ll look like the monks of old – or even the Monks of the 1960s (their song Monk Time is way ahead of it’s time, by the way).
A quick fix would be to shave my noggin, but that’s not a real option for me. A lot of people look really good bald, but you have to have the right head shape.
I do not have the right head shape.
If I opted to shear off my locks I’d look like Lex Luthor. Well, maybe not so much Lex Luthor as his less attractive brother, Lenny Luthor, who runs a small booth at the outlet mall where he sells cubic zirconia Kryptonite.
So, I’ve decided to try a topical hair growth treatment. It’s actually working because one of the early signs of regrowth is what appears to be peach fuzz, and it’s popping up on and around the crown.
If leaves appear I’ll probably discontinue use of the product, but I might see how they look first.
Finally, staying in shape is a chore when you get older.
I’m happy that my weight is basically where it’s supposed to be compared to my height, but under no circumstance would I go shirtless – even at the beach.
I never was one to show off my pecs (or even my bushels), but unless you have personal trainers and really good genes, time has a way of making your chest and torso look weird. I give myself the once-over in a mirror and just seem formless and uncooked.
And in my case, there’s that whole ape shape I have to deal with.
If I was running shirtless in a park, the first kid who saw me would shout, “Mama … look at the pink monkey. Can I feed it?”
Fortunately, my darling person loves me the way I am, which is a good thing because I can only do so much about the way I look. So even if I have bushy eyebrows, a bare crown and a chest and stomach that looks like it has just been poured out of a can, it really wouldn’t matter.
Besides, I think she truly enjoys watching me peel bananas and pick things off her head.
