My head

OK, I have mentioned this and it has been requested that I follow through. If you are expecting anything with any kind of obvious or hidden meaning, sorry to disappoint. This is 100% personal opinion based entirely on insecurity. Delve no further than the words, there is nothing to find. However, any of you trained or self-taught professionals, should you see something I do not, jump in and let us know.

You can get there from  here it just takes a while. Makes sure you have some time. Almost none of the following is relevant to the topic, just  a good story.

Sunday morning, 8ish, in a bar, drinking bloody bears and watching racing news. Myself and two friends and the bartender. He, the bartender that is, is in the process of putting up new advertising. This one poster in particular is a beach scene, a guy in a beach chair, a woman in an almost too small bikini with an obviously very cold six pack of beer about to sit next to him.

Self satisfied with his accomplishment the bartender says, “What do you think of that?” On command the three of us all look at the poster. “How do you mean? Is it straight, yea.” “Good job.” “No addition.”

“No you morons! LOOK!” What would you do with that?”  (What do you expect at 8 on a Sunday morning in a bar?)

The first to answer, “Nice but, she has funny toes. Kinda turn off ya know?” The silence was there but brief. Quickly replaced with multiple WTF’s!?!?!?!?! The explanation is simple, and presented as such: When faced with the desire, longing, wanting of something unobtainable, this guy found it easier to find something to criticize about it, make it less desirable, therefore making it less bothersome that is was just that – unobtainable. Crazy, sure, but does make some sense too.

The next answer was even more to the point, ” I do believe I would drink all six of them”. ‘nough said.

Then, without warning, even to myself, I quietly, directly and with a bit too much obvious envy in my tone, “That guy has a great head”.  The silence was there again. Much louder. Much longer. The bartender had time to bring three more before any spoke. Of course it was toe boy, feeling like my teasing was seriously unfounded now, who first said, WTF?!?!?!?! Six pack guy moved down a seat. Funny.

That was, I believe, the first time I articulated, shared, made into something known, my displeasure with my head. Most of the time I like the inside, scary and evil as it has been and can be, it is the outside I do not like. More to the point, the over-all shape. Sit back, here I go —-

There are a few standard face shapes, round, oval, triangle. Maybe 1 or 2 more, you know what I mean. I have  a LONG oval face. It works OK from the front. Narrow but that helps keep the obviously unnecessarily large nose in check. Not like a Karl Malden, Jimmy Duranty proboscis, straight and lean but still freaking big for a nose.

My eyes are mostly level (and mostly open the last few years). Two ears that keep reasonably close to the head, no air brakes here. Bad teeth, cute and kissable lips that hide them well. This is all from the front. Dead on straight in the sites of the beak. From the back – mostly black hair.

Then there is the profile. Ugh. Starting with my atrocious posture, that has led to a terrible head forward sort of stance – which only ads to the flippin’ big nose situation. It looks like my nose is so big my neck is straining to keep  my head up! Any second and I would be chin-to-sternum like a junkie on the nod. My lips are sill nice but for some reason, probably the narrowness, look very tiny from the side. Nice eye lashes though.

The back of my skull is really where my issue lies. How is it that even though you can look at my bird like neck and wonder just how long I can hold my head up, somehow the back of my skull is still mostly in line with my spine. That is to say – I got one bis ass occipute. I mean, come on! Then again maybe it is counter-balance for my nose. All I know is – when I see my self in profile, I look like a freak.  I blame my lack of success in film work on this.

I did not realize until that early Sunday the level of my head discontent. The guy in the poster had the perfect round shape, uniform head. Hair, no hair – works. Me without hair is like looking at a weather vane that escaped its stick.  I was envious of another mans head. Holy CRAP!

I have a theory though. It is because I was a cesarean baby. You see, the bones that make up you skull are not yet fused or even all that solid when you are birthed. Like putting a signature on a painting, the shaping that occurs when forced through the birth canal is mom’s finishing touch on you. Since I picture this delivery system much like a round tube from there to here – I also imagine this his how heads get that nice round shape.

Since I missed this final touch, my noodle was not properly finished, a bit aldente you might say. Add to the lack of round-shaping-tube experience I also see the doctor as some big-ass-ham-handed-corn-fed-white-boy from Iowa. 6’6″ – just reaching in snatching me up by my soft skull and squishing my head. I may have to thank him for not having air brake ears but – DUDE – look what you did to my head!!!!!!!!

I want to wear a nice cowboy hat that does not have side drafts. Can I? NO! Damn it.

There – my head in a nut shell. I very nearly despise my profile. I am lucky to have my nose as a constant topic of humor or I would completely hate the head.

If you have any other of my body parts you would like me to review, please let me know. This was fun, yet lacked all the normal “makes me feel good to write it out”. Need to ponder that.

Peace, Ant-Knee