Well, today was one of those days that was kind of rough and mind draining. Was feeling a bit anxious so I figured I’d take a long walk downtown. First stopped in a Goodwill, they were closing up the section where there were used books and CD’s so I explored the clothing section. More for sh*t and giggles, I looked at the suits. I’m not really a suit and tie kind of guy. Still, I tried on a few, if anything I looked “hipsterish,” almost “ironic.” I didn’t exactly look like some kind of gangster and I didn’t exactly look like a used car salesman either but it was obvious that I didn’t look “right” in one. Perhaps odd is the best descriptor. Still, I really liked how the suits would give me a buffed up V shape. I guess that is the whole point of such formal wear.
Got to a recordstore/videogame/dvd emporium-found three t-shirts for $10. High fashion for sure, two Mortal Combat tee’s and a Gears of War shirt. Haha, maybe now I can retire my other Gears of War shirt with holes in it-or maybe not…
Happy with my purchases, I decided to visit another shop where I’ve found deals on Levi’s 501’s… The button-fly is my preferred choice, if you have to ask why, just watch the zipper scene from “Something About Mary.” Found a potential match on the sale rack… Went to the changing room to try ’em on. They were a little long in length but felt really good, not too tight but I wouldn’t need a belt. I don’t particularly know why but I decided to also remove my shirt. This particular pair seemed slimmer than any pair I’ve found in the past few years. I looked into the mirror. The jeans made my belly seem a little flabby. Well, yeah, maybe my belly is a little flabbier than it was this summer, but, y’know–I didn’t feel so bad about it. I know that I’m stronger than I’ve ever been as far as upper body strength. On a good day I can almost get 20 pull ups in one set. I sucked in my gut and flexed my muscles. I thought my tan was looking really even. It’s mid winter and I’ve got a great tan going. Perhaps there is an upside to being mixed raced despite the Inmalafide bigots who like to call me a halfbreed victim of miscegenation. My upper body was looking more defined than the last time I gazed myself. I liked the fact I could see a line on the back of my upper arm where the muscles ran together. I pushed out my shoulder blades, puffed out my chest and flexed my arms. I don’t know what that pose is called only that I’ve seen Bruce Lee do it. I made a mean face as I admired my sideview profile.
There was a knock at the door. Stirred from my vaingloriousness, I answered, “Someone’s in here.”
“Do you need anything?” A female voice inquired. At first I thought it was someone’s girlfreind whom mistakenly thought her guy was in my changing room. Then I realized it was the saleswoman. I also realized I had been starring at myself for an inordinate amount of time for someone just trying on a pair of pants. Maybe she thought I was trying to steal something or maybe she thought I was doing what they all thought Ben Stiller was doing when he got all mangled by the zipper.
“You were trying on 501’s, right?” She then asked, “What sizes?”
I told her, and she brought a few more pairs leaving them atop the salon styled door. None fit like the magical first pair. Yeah, maybe I’ll have to slim up my gut. Gotta look as good as my jeans, right? Does this make me a narcissist? I suppose I better ask Quiet Riot Girl if this is my encounter with Metrosexuality.