Look and Feel
Last week, I could feel a zit forming on my nose. I couldn’t yet see it, but I knew it was there because it hurt like a madman. (Like a madman who was punching me in the nose.)
So, I tried to nip the problem in the butt, as they say. I squeezed the crap out of that zit. Actually, I wish I had, in fact, squeezed the crap out of that zit. Instead, what happened is I squeezed and squeezed and nothing happened.
With the bridge of my nose still throbbing, I took drastic measures and began digging at that nasty, invisible little zit with my fingernails until I was certain that it had been excavated.
Also, if you don’t like reading about gross things, you should probably skip the preceding paragraphs.
Unearthing the zit, of course, left a sizable scab on my nose. It didn’t hurt, but for a few days, I looked like a rather well-known, red-nosed creature.
Anyway, the whole ordeal left me reflecting on the fact that I often will trade appearances for comfort. In other words, I was willing to walk around with a clown-nose for a few days (poor appearance) if it meant relief from the newly forming zit that hurt slightly if I poked at it in just the right place (comfort).
It’s the same reason I never wear “skinny” jeans, and why “sweat” is my favorite variety of pant (provided sweatpants are even remotely socially acceptable, given the occasion — taking out the garbage, midnight runs to Walmart, my sister’s wedding, etc.).
It’s why I wear glasses instead of contacts. I’d rather look like a dork in glasses than have to regularly endure the uncomfortable sensation of touching my own eyeball. Also, shut up — my mom says glasses are cool.
Some would say this is why I wore Velcro shoes during my freshman year of college. But I didn’t wear Velcro shoes because they were any more comfortable than shoes with laces — I wore them because they were so incredibly cool. Like glasses.
I blame this — my preference for comfort over appearance — for why I didn’t exactly kill it with the ladies in high school. (Also this, this, and this.)
One exception, though, does come to the top of my head — mostly, because I wear it on the top of my head. I put on a thin, silver and black stocking cap when I play football in the winter. I have other hats that are warmer and/or more comfortable, but I wear this particular hat because it matches my silver and black Randy Moss Oakland Raiders jersey (which, according to jersey-experts, is the fifth-most popular Moss jersey ever sold).
Why do I make this one exception? It’s because if there’s one thing I know about guys who play football, it’s that they would mercilessly ridicule me if my costume were not perfectly color-coordinated from head to toe.
Uniform. I meant to say uniform.
Or, my special playtime outfit.
– Reinman
