I’ve had an interesting time looking at myself these past few months. While I was unemployed I swam almost every day. The upside was that I felt great; the downside was that I got skin cancer in the middle of my darned face. A few dermatologist visits later, I am the proud owner of a one-inch scar on my cheek, hiding in the crease of my smile.
Age never stops, does it? Between one weekend and the next time wears away, and suddenly I’m much older.
All of the humans in my family are attractive. The Thai side goes without saying, but the caucasian side is pretty shy about their beauty. I have a few pictures that float through my memory every now and again of various aunts of mine, modeling for me how gracefully women can age. I think one day I’ll look like them, when my hair gets a little whiter. The only part of me that’s different is height. I might seem short compared to Dave, but I’m always a giant around my family.
Here’s half a year of selfies, photos taken in the bathroom mirror at work. Why? There are too few representations of normal humans, especially older ones, and it’s good to get accurate representations of humans out there.