I should record this while I can, because surely it won’t last. Right now I reckon I’m the most attractive I’ve been for 15 years, and possibly more than at any time since the halcyon days of my early twenties. I’m a vain character, irrespective of those years when I was less attractive, and so this matters to me.
I’m inclined to say I’m the physically fittest I’ve been for about 5 years, to a time just before I got my first DVT. I was in good nick then, and then the DVT came and I was off my feet for a month and I lost the condition I’ve struggled to regain since. To look at me that appears the case. My belt has insufficient notches in it now. I’m still broad in the chest and shoulders, but the shirts I wore before balloon on me. I’m still about 3-4 kilos away from where I’d like to be, but my stomach is flat and has definition. I’m tall, well-shaped, broad where it counts and slender where it matters – an old-fashioned man’s body. Even in my face its clear than I’m a leaner version of myself. The only fly in the ointment is the reality that I’m not actually as fit as I appear – I have another DVT (maybe permanently), my cruciate ligament in my left knee is shot to pieces, and I have raging tendonitis in my right shoulder.
My face? Well, I’ll let others be the judge, but I think it’s fair to say that I’m handsome right now. Not pretty handsome, manly handsome. I’m clear eyed, regular featured, high cheekboned. My hair is of a length now where it has a natural wave to it. I like it a lot. My hair makes or breaks me. If it looks bad, so do I. If it’s right, I look good. Right now, this week, this morning, it’s spot on, and so am I – so much so that I’m reluctant to give it a wash and risk spoiling the spell.
Like I said, it matters to me. I’m on the market still, so it’s nice to have some window dressing. I always want to be a contender, even when I’ve taken myself out of the contest. More than anything though it goes towards self-image. I look in the mirror and that’s who I am, and mostly who I want to be. It’s important to me that I have some presence, and lovely to be seen as an alluring character. Fuck, I’m competitive and greedy, a strong ego and a proclivity to show off – how else am I going to be?
It’s unhealthy that good looks should count for so much, and strange really in a man otherwise level-headed and intelligent. It’s a superficiality, bone structure, good health, and little more than skin-deep. Still, vanity is a bit like love, it knows no rules. In the end vanity is a part of who you are. I could be less vain, but then I would not be the man I am. Thankfully there’s a lot more to me as well.
As an aside, this is consistent with my experience. It takes with one hand, and gives with another. I’ve had things taken, and denied to me; this is some small consolation.