Before I get started, look what the person I’ve been married to for 11+ years wrote on his blog.
“Typically, my tastes are more towards hard bop than the free yangy stuff. In most circumstances, I’ll pick out George Coleman and Harold Mabern before innovative saints like Ornette or Albert Ayler or even Rollins and Coltrane.”
I don’t even know what that means.
It’s hard to feel good about how I look in winter.
My hair gets out in the damp and turns into Sideshow Bob. My skin isn’t great to begin with but now it’s washed-out gray and blemish-city. I had one of those giant volcanic under-the-skin red zits on my chin over the weekend that erupted under a mole which made the entire lower half of my face look like a potato. And not in a good way.
Then there’s the holiday overeating and the giant layers of clothes so I feel like I’m waddling around like the Pillsbury Doughboy.
I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror the other day and thought, “Honey, you could pass for ten years older.”