Lessons Learned From a Runny Nose

WARNING: I describe my naked self

Normally, when congested or suffering from a runny nose I let the steam from the shower loosen things up so I can blow and cough it down the drain. I know that's not pleasant sounding but I'm allergic to just about everything so frequently wake up with a bit of something or other in my nose that needs to be expressed. Typically that's all it takes- no allergy medicine or moving to the desert for me- a hot shower then everything is fine.

The morning after the baboso incident I took an extra long hot shower. My nose was still running (not as bad as the day before) and I had a lot of sinus pressure. So I knelt on the floor of the shower and let the steam do its job.

I see myself naked every day; that's no big deal. But kneeling there on the shower floor I got a pretty good look at myself- or, if not a good look, at least a long look from a perspective I normally miss. I'm weird looking.

I have spindly arms and legs ending in hands and feet that are too large for the sticks they're attached to. I'm hairy. My hands are scarred and veiny. I have uneven, three-toned coloring. My elbows and wrists are boney and for not having much fat to speak of, my obliques hang over the sides of my iliac crest and lead to a crease along either side of the front of my pelvis drawing one's perspective to a much too hairy groin.

I never maintained any illusion that my body is one anyone else would want to see, but I guess I just realized I might rank just above Mr. Burns as far as physical attractiveness goes- and he's a cartoon.

I explained this to Cyndi and she tried to tell me she likes my body. I understand that, we're married, we're in love, blah, blah, blah. Nonetheless, mine is not the physique used for marketing colognes and Caribbean vacations. I realize I look better clothed than I do naked but I am willing to address naked me.

So I'm funny looking. Whatever. That's not that a big a deal to me or probably all that interesting to you. The thing is I'm okay with my body- not just with how I look, but being seen, or even being seen naked. I don't mean that I am interested in flaunting my body or imagine that my body is at all beguiling. I mean, I am not the guy afraid of gang showers or worried about comparing myself to other people. I am not talking about running around naked, I completely understand the social mores and rules about nudity. I'm talking about being comfortable in my skin even though I am aware said skin and what comes with it is weird looking. Or maybe... even if not always comfortable, at least I know it's there- scrawny, pimpled, hairy.

It's okay to say this. It's okay to know that underneath all the clothes and in spite of entire industries devoted to diminishing, disguising, or denying our awkward nakedness, it's there. It's implied in the picture; it's a subtext to our dialogues. It's the moment and its feelings when a young man heard his fiancee was pregnant... but not by him. It's the father who failed his young pregnant wife, unable to find them a suitable place to stay. It's the looks and the murmurs and the end you don't see coming. It's ugly and a little disturbing but a part of the big picture.

Maybe that's a stretch, but it's Christmas Eve.

So the lessons are:
Baboso is a funny Spanish name to call someone with a runny nose.
Cyndi is delusional.
Christmas has some ugliness- check it out.