Thursday, April 8, 2021

I try to imagine myself with a better body. I think my temperament and personality can fit into a fitter and more beautiful body. There are a few mirrors in the house, and when I pass one, I stop and look at my reflected image. When I look at myself in the mirror, I have noticed that I don’t think I look so bad. When I see a photograph of me either at a party or some sort of social engagement, I look very fat. To this day, and it has been years now, I remember seeing a very close friend at a social event, and when he greeted me, he touched my belly and said: “you gain some, my friend.” Ever since then, I refuse to talk or have any communication with him.

I try to keep my mind on other things. More important things such as covid-19, politics, warming of the planet Earth, but at the end of the day, it comes to how big my stomach is. I can actually remember my tummy getting more significant moment by moment. As one gets older, we do decay, but this is ridiculous. It is not only me, but I also look at other men, and I remember slim friends, but now middle-aged and on the fat side. When I take a bath or shower, I run from my bedroom to the bathroom naked, not wanting to delay the panic that is deep inside me. It seems now that when I stretch my body in our King-size bed, I can touch one end on the side facing the West, and the other toe reaches the East.

Throughout my life, I tend to have seen myself to be a small person. Now, I feel like an adult elephant in a one-way alley. I recall the feeling of dread of seeing images of my favorite writer Oscar Wilde as he turned from being a very handsome lad into an oversized decadent figure. When you see someone change from one body form into another, one knows that things will not get better for that person. And that person now has my name. I know I shouldn’t fret about things like this, but then again, everything I see, including the media, just reminds me how much I have fallen through the grace of my self-image.