Me & Me
This morning, right after I got out of the shower, I met me.
I know, I know, that sounds weird, but it's true.
I met me somewhere between drying my hair and brushing my teeth.
Me was right there in the bathroom mirror, right there staring somewhat disdainfully back at me.
For fear that you think I've lost my mind, I won't say that me spoke to me, but in a strange kind of way, me did.
"You've aged," me observed, "what happened to your boyish good looks?"
I looked back at me with a kind of snarl, like the kind you give someone who really pisses you off, and you can't come up with a suitably sarcastic retort.
After a moment or two, I simply thought to myself, "Well, time changes everything ... you couldn't expect me not to change with the passing of time, could you?"
The me in the mirror didn't quite seem content with that thought. In fact, me went on to offer, "Got a bit pudgy somewhere along the way, didn't you?"
Now, I kind of took this as a low blow. I mean it's one thing to make a note of someone's age, but it's another thing to be downright rude.
The standard response in such a situation escaped me. So I just stared back at the mirror with my best "kiss-my-ass" expression rippling over my face. Needless to say, me gave me the same look back.
As I went to get dressed, I wondered if I should shave, but for some reason, I didn't trust the me in the mirror with a razor. I had visions of me nicking some important artery, and though it seems I have no compunctions about making a bloody mess of other people's lives, I stop short of making a bloody mess of my own.
Self-perception — sometimes it's like a junkyard dog looking for a bone, and the only thing it can find to gnaw on is your ego.
It may be that we are too hard on ourselves sometimes. Self-acceptance is one of the things that provide you with a certain amount of happiness in life. Me? I've always been OK with me. Lately, however, I have noticed a certain tendency to wonder how come I can't do certain things the way I used to do them. Like running. I once jogged every day. Now the idea of going out and pounding shoe to asphalt never enters my mind. If it did, that puddle down the road there might very possibly be me, and I'm not sure I'd be here with you this morning.
It's all about kindness, isn't it? I mean, all of our lives, we try to be kind to other people, but we are rarely kind to ourselves. We're always our own worst critics ... although I must admit that ex-girlfriends might take exception with that statement.
That's just it though, isn't it?
Other people you can ignore, ditch, banish, or hide from, but you can't ignore, ditch, banish or hide from yourself.
You are your one truly lifelong companion. There's no getting away from the me in you.
It's kind of crappy, however, when that me in the mirror turns out to be an ass. Well, maybe that me is just trying to tell this me something that I didn't already know.
So it goes ...
This morning, right after I got out of the shower, I met me.
I know, I know, that sounds weird, but it's true.
I met me somewhere between drying my hair and brushing my teeth.
Me was right there in the bathroom mirror, right there staring somewhat disdainfully back at me.
For fear that you think I've lost my mind, I won't say that me spoke to me, but in a strange kind of way, me did.
"You've aged," me observed, "what happened to your boyish good looks?"
I looked back at me with a kind of snarl, like the kind you give someone who really pisses you off, and you can't come up with a suitably sarcastic retort.
After a moment or two, I simply thought to myself, "Well, time changes everything ... you couldn't expect me not to change with the passing of time, could you?"
The me in the mirror didn't quite seem content with that thought. In fact, me went on to offer, "Got a bit pudgy somewhere along the way, didn't you?"
Now, I kind of took this as a low blow. I mean it's one thing to make a note of someone's age, but it's another thing to be downright rude.
The standard response in such a situation escaped me. So I just stared back at the mirror with my best "kiss-my-ass" expression rippling over my face. Needless to say, me gave me the same look back.
As I went to get dressed, I wondered if I should shave, but for some reason, I didn't trust the me in the mirror with a razor. I had visions of me nicking some important artery, and though it seems I have no compunctions about making a bloody mess of other people's lives, I stop short of making a bloody mess of my own.
Self-perception — sometimes it's like a junkyard dog looking for a bone, and the only thing it can find to gnaw on is your ego.
It may be that we are too hard on ourselves sometimes. Self-acceptance is one of the things that provide you with a certain amount of happiness in life. Me? I've always been OK with me. Lately, however, I have noticed a certain tendency to wonder how come I can't do certain things the way I used to do them. Like running. I once jogged every day. Now the idea of going out and pounding shoe to asphalt never enters my mind. If it did, that puddle down the road there might very possibly be me, and I'm not sure I'd be here with you this morning.
It's all about kindness, isn't it? I mean, all of our lives, we try to be kind to other people, but we are rarely kind to ourselves. We're always our own worst critics ... although I must admit that ex-girlfriends might take exception with that statement.
That's just it though, isn't it?
Other people you can ignore, ditch, banish, or hide from, but you can't ignore, ditch, banish or hide from yourself.
You are your one truly lifelong companion. There's no getting away from the me in you.
It's kind of crappy, however, when that me in the mirror turns out to be an ass. Well, maybe that me is just trying to tell this me something that I didn't already know.
So it goes ...
