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September 7, 2002 a thousand words On a recent visit, my sister brought with her some photographs she had taken the last time we'd been together.  As she unpacked in my guest room, I sat on a bed and looked at the photographs.  When I got to a photograph of me, I recoiled and pronounced the photo "a terrible picture." My sister stopped unpacking and looked over my shoulder.  I was holding the photo at arms-length, like it was a radioactive turd.  My sister laughed and said, "No, it's not.  It's not a bad picture of you.  It looks exactly like you.  You look like that." "Very funny," I replied. "Take a closer look.  The fellow in this photograph has a melon head.  He's pasty.  And his nose is larger than mine." My sister resumed her unpacking and, with back turned to me said, "I've already looked closely at the picture.  I hate to break it to you, but your head is the size of a pumpkin and your skin resembles Miss Goldie chicken.  And , not to put too fine a point on it, years of boozing produces an entirely different nose than, say, years of buttermilking." I took the photograph and walked to the bathroom mirror.  First, I looked at my reflection; then, the photograph.  Reflection.  Photograph.  Peristaltic horror rippled through my body.  She was right!  I did look like the guy in the picture.  How could I have missed this?  Where on earth did I get the idea I wasn't bad looking? Then, in raised voice, I heard my sister call from the other room, "and check out your double chin!"

©  2002 by the beastmaster