My therapist told me I was letting myself go. I guess cuz I showed up at her office in flip flops, gym shorts with stains on them and a torn t-shirt. I really didn’t want to go to therapy that day but was out of my meds. I haven’t cut my hair in three months or shaved or brushed my teeth. Well I figured rinsing out with Listerine was enough. It wasn’t like I was trying to impress anybody.
I was walking down the street and a friend passed me right up. I knew he wasn’t being shady. I called out his name and at first he just looked at me like I was some social terrorists. Then he looked deeper and realized it was me. He seemed shocked. It was as if I had become some crackhead. I was just going to the grocery store I didn’t feel like getting pretty.
Actually I haven’t felt like getting pretty in a long time. In a way I kind of felt that my looks betrayed me. I hated being good looking. I really did. I hated strangers constantly stopping me on the streets. I hated that stupid question, are you a model. I hated how some guys I knew became so possessive. I hated that my best friend was secretly jealous and often took it out inconveniently that’s why we aren’t friends anymore. I felt like being good looking was a curse that I wanted to get rid of. And maybe that’s why I got into so many fights, trying to get bruises on my face, ugly myself up. I hated jealous bitches always wanting to start something for no reason. I know some people would say, being good looking should be a good thing and looks don’t last. Yes, they don’t last so why waste my time obsessed with it. When you’re good looking people like to see you age. They are waiting for the flaws. They say shit like he used to be as if they owned something.
I agree, looks will get you in a lot of places. I didn’t pay rent for ten years. I got into clubs and went on vacations for free. I did modeling and some acting, but all that was professional. I didn’t want to be a professional good looking person. I didn't feel like the upkeep. I figure if i get fat one day, i will just start one hell of a porn collection. I think sometimes we all should just let go. I see those make-over shows and you know the person goes back to looking like their tired self in about a month. I ain't Tyson Beckford. I got a gym membership but only used it to go to the bathroom.
But I had a moment the other day. I had to wake up early to go to the post office and then I was off to McDonalds. I grabbed my change cup filled with quarters, nickels and pennies because I didn’t want to use cash. I like to make the fast food workers use their math skills. It’s my way of giving back to society. Anyways, I just jumped out of bed, my hair all wild, slipped on my flip flops and a dingy t-shirt and went to the post office. At McDonalds I was in line counting my change when I realized that I might’ve looked homeless. It was a surreal feeling. I asked myself if I cared that the cashier was being an extra bitch and turning up her nose like I stank, which I did cuz I hadn’t put on deodorant in like a week or took a bath. I wanted to scream at her that I graduated college, had an apartment and in 2004 and 2005 I was hot boy of the week. But it didn’t matter. I was hungry and just wanted my food.
I got home, and after eating my food I decided to shower, brush my teeth, shave and cut my hair. I shaved my entire body and splash myself with my favorite cologne. I felt clean and pretty and like a sell out.
I haven’t let myself go. I let myself out of that damn gay box of gyms, designer knock-offs. I’m not pretty, never wanted to be pretty. I wanted to be tough, dirty, messy fingernails, maybe a black eye and a couple of missing teeth. That’s how I see myself. I see myself as cockeyed and snaggle tooth and you're still going to love me.
I was walking down the street and a friend passed me right up. I knew he wasn’t being shady. I called out his name and at first he just looked at me like I was some social terrorists. Then he looked deeper and realized it was me. He seemed shocked. It was as if I had become some crackhead. I was just going to the grocery store I didn’t feel like getting pretty.
Actually I haven’t felt like getting pretty in a long time. In a way I kind of felt that my looks betrayed me. I hated being good looking. I really did. I hated strangers constantly stopping me on the streets. I hated that stupid question, are you a model. I hated how some guys I knew became so possessive. I hated that my best friend was secretly jealous and often took it out inconveniently that’s why we aren’t friends anymore. I felt like being good looking was a curse that I wanted to get rid of. And maybe that’s why I got into so many fights, trying to get bruises on my face, ugly myself up. I hated jealous bitches always wanting to start something for no reason. I know some people would say, being good looking should be a good thing and looks don’t last. Yes, they don’t last so why waste my time obsessed with it. When you’re good looking people like to see you age. They are waiting for the flaws. They say shit like he used to be as if they owned something.
I agree, looks will get you in a lot of places. I didn’t pay rent for ten years. I got into clubs and went on vacations for free. I did modeling and some acting, but all that was professional. I didn’t want to be a professional good looking person. I didn't feel like the upkeep. I figure if i get fat one day, i will just start one hell of a porn collection. I think sometimes we all should just let go. I see those make-over shows and you know the person goes back to looking like their tired self in about a month. I ain't Tyson Beckford. I got a gym membership but only used it to go to the bathroom.
But I had a moment the other day. I had to wake up early to go to the post office and then I was off to McDonalds. I grabbed my change cup filled with quarters, nickels and pennies because I didn’t want to use cash. I like to make the fast food workers use their math skills. It’s my way of giving back to society. Anyways, I just jumped out of bed, my hair all wild, slipped on my flip flops and a dingy t-shirt and went to the post office. At McDonalds I was in line counting my change when I realized that I might’ve looked homeless. It was a surreal feeling. I asked myself if I cared that the cashier was being an extra bitch and turning up her nose like I stank, which I did cuz I hadn’t put on deodorant in like a week or took a bath. I wanted to scream at her that I graduated college, had an apartment and in 2004 and 2005 I was hot boy of the week. But it didn’t matter. I was hungry and just wanted my food.
I got home, and after eating my food I decided to shower, brush my teeth, shave and cut my hair. I shaved my entire body and splash myself with my favorite cologne. I felt clean and pretty and like a sell out.
I haven’t let myself go. I let myself out of that damn gay box of gyms, designer knock-offs. I’m not pretty, never wanted to be pretty. I wanted to be tough, dirty, messy fingernails, maybe a black eye and a couple of missing teeth. That’s how I see myself. I see myself as cockeyed and snaggle tooth and you're still going to love me.
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