A Sorry State of Affairs

And not simply in how remiss I’ve been in updating this blog, or how little writing I’ve done in general since finishing NaNo last year.

But when trying on clothes a week ago, I looked in the three-way mirror and did not think I looked awful. 

Actually, I thought: I look good.

Not these jeans make my butt look smaller—because they didn’t, not this trouser line lengthens my stumpy legs—which they did, but also showed off my panty lines. No, I just thought Hey, I look good. 

And I’ve never thought that before. No about me. Maybe my eyes, my hair or sometime my waist. Never before a great deal of effort.

That says something very sad, especially since I’ve never been the one concerned about materially improving my appearance. I almost wrote “concerned about my appearance,” except that’s never been true, even when I refused to make any effort. I only refused the effort because it didn’t seem like it would do any good. After all, I’m not conventionally attractive, and I never will be. For that past few years, I’ve been okay with that part, because I figured making myself look as best I could was enough.

I’ve never actually thought I looked good.

So now I have, and I can look at pictures of myself and not be actively repulsed. This is a strange new world, I admit. Now what will I obsess over? Hopefully, nothing more than books, and writing. Maybe the world I see will be more honest.