Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
Where did he go?
I’m the Vice Chief of Staff at our little community hospital, which means all illicit drug sales, bootlegged whiskey, gambling, and prostitution have to go through me. (Note to JCAHO: I’m kidding. KIDDING, do you hear? Those government guys have no sense of humor.)
In February, the hospital arranged professional photos of the officers — the chief of staff, vice chief of staff, and secretary. Only this week did our photos show up in the hospital lobby. The photographer did something funky to the photos, made them look like tintypes. That’s my excuse for why it took me ten seconds to recognize ME.
I didn’t like it. Not one bit. The guy in the photo has a bull neck and a round head. Where did those come from? And he’s old.
That’s not me, I thought, whining in dog-frequencies.
This is me:
The only difference between me and the guy in the photo, this photo, is (A) I have better taste in music these days, and (B) I have facial hair. Otherwise, we’re still the same. Both of us have the same goofy laugh, the same love of food, the same twisted romantic view of life. Both of us can make love up to one time per evening. (Joke stolen from Steve Martin. I couldn’t resist.)
I know this sounds like a vain rant, but that’s not quite it. I feel no urge to see a cosmetic surgeon, even if I had money to waste on such things. I don’t mind aging, either, not in any abstract sense. Each decade of my life has been better than the one before, so at this rate, my Golden Years will be divine.
I wonder, though, why I have so much trouble internalizing some sort of appropriate self-image, something that ages as I age. Why, whenever I look in the mirror, I expect to see that guy in the Yes shirt.
I also wonder how sometimes an afternoon can last forever, while high school and college seem like they were yesterday.
That’s enough maudlin self-indulgence for one evening. Bottom line, that “professional” portrait was one fugly photograph. I’ll bet the photographer was an ex-patient whom I sent to collections.
D.
I used to model, so I do know what you mean about before and now shots, lol. If you hit the ‘About Me’ button on my website you’ll see another modeling shot –
the one with the stuffed animal (pet sock? LOL!) is from waybackwhen too.
The ‘farmgirl’ photo was taken last summer by my daughter in Spain.
The difference between my passport photo from ten years ago and then one I just got is stunning–and not in a good way.
Sam, did I call it a pet sock? I think I meant to say sock puppet!
Jim, I don’t want to even look at my old passport photo.
LOL, Doug. I notice you didn’t post the photo. Carl just had his official photo done. It doesn’t look like him even to me, and I see him all the time.
But yes, I know what you mean. In my head, I look pretty much the way I did in my mid-20s, or occasionally younger. The mirror is startling, sometimes.
I have the opposite problem – when I look in the mirror, I recognize myself, but I don’t remember what I used to look like unless I’m looking at old photos. I can’t see those younger faces in my reflection, and I can’t remember looking like that.
SxKitten, I wish I had that problem. The cognitive dissonance is truly obnoxious sometimes.
Darla, I’d post it if I could (you know I have no shame, right?) but it’s hanging in the lobby —
Oh! I could steal it. That would be hilarious!