I was standing in the bathroom recently and had an epiphany.
In the bathroom you say? Yes, sadly that is where most of my epiphanies arrive. Perhaps my bathroom is centered over some celestial vortex or earthly magnetic field. I have no idea, I just know that quite often that, under the angelic glow of flourescent lighting, I am suddenly and often revealed many secrets of the universe. Moses had his mountain, I have my bathroom. You take what life gives you, you know?
I stood briefly transfixed before the mirror that stretches the entire length of the counter top. Wait, hold on.
And why is that? Modern houses have huge mirrors. Older homes have these tiny mirrors. You had to stand in a certain place to look into it. Like a tiny portal that revealed only what you wanted. Mine faces the bathtub and shower. No matter how enamored you are with your body, there are angles of yourself you do not want to see. I don’t want to watch myself shower. Well, not always. But mostly, no. I don’t.
Anyways, back to the mirror. I have been trying to grow my hair long. I’ve only had longer hair twice in my adult life. I am trying again. Once, because I’ve never managed it and two, because my parents hate it. And three, because it was one of the challenges I was presented when I began this whole primal/paleo/life change thing. My conundrum is this.
I am not very fashionable. Yes, I admit it. I know it’s a shock. I want to be, but somewhere mid-90’s I lost my sense of what is in and out and what is cool and what is not. I don’t even know if cool is a word anymore. Does anyone even use that word? I’m thinking bitchin’ is probably out, if it was ever in. Hip I know died sometime before me. As did groovy. I cannot bring myself to say fly or dope. So I will stick with cool. Because cool never dies. Right?
Clothes are one thing. You can steal a magazine from any doctors office and skip through the ads to find what is in and out as far as clothes go. And even then, the notion that I might want to wear a pair of jeans that costs more than a good watch seems a bit ridiculous to me. But still I am supposed to look respectable and clothes say a lot about a man. What do mine say?
Hair is another thing altogether. I don’t know what is in, out, up, down. I don’t know mousse from gel and conditioner from soap. I’ve kept a military cut for almost twenty years. At any rate, the debate here is do I part it in the center (supposedly out) to the side (supposedly in). Then you do the hokey pokey…………..Hey! A reason for the mirror!
I like it in the center. That is where my natural part is. But standing in the mirror I realized something. I look kind of like Rick Springfield right now. That makes me happy. Not old Rick Springfield. Young and cool Rick Springfield. You know? Bop til You Drop. Love is Alright Tonight, Human Touch. That Rick Springfield. So, at this moment in time you can tell me nothing. I am beyond criticism. I saw Hard to Hold. I heard the collective gasp of hundreds of hormonal teenage girls each time Rick looked into the camera. For a moment that is me. The gaspee, you understand, not the gasper.
So, as I do my best rendition of Jessie’s Girl in the bathroom with my daughter’s howling terrier as background vocals, for a few moments I am realizing the culmination of my high school dreams. I am the coolest guy around. Sadly, I am a couple of decades out of high school. But still, I can live with that. Because cool never dies. And besides, Rick is still cool I think. His hair is longer now. He’s a little more grizzled, a little more grey. But like I said…………
Cool never dies. Now pardon me. I have an encore presentation in the bathroom.