i don't wear sunglasses much because i don't think they look good on me. i just don't have the sort of skin that can carry the 'trust me, i look good' load all on its own. on most days, this leaves me with a scrunched up nose and squinting eyes, which can't look too attractive either.
the last five years have been particularly challenging for me, as sunglasses have re-emerged as the essential personality adornment; the one that communicates for you, so you don't have to.
"i'm cute and quirky"; "i'm iceman"; "i'm back here somewhere, come find me"; "i'm gorgeous, back off"
the truth is i envy these people. all of them. they have found the glasses that complete them. they have found the one. in an accessory.
i too want to slip on a more perfect me when the sun comes out. i too want my sunglasses to smooth out my rough edges. to sexify me. to mystify me.
but i do not look good in sunglasses. they do not blend well with my face. the sit outside of it, wondering out loud why they have been placed there. they stare at other faces longingly, regretting bitterly the commitment they have made to me.
on my face, unfortunately, sunglasses are simply a tool. a way to protect my eyes from the sun. as if that was really their goal. pfft.
so, i rarely wear sunglasses. and i hope, from a place of humourless irony, that the cataracts i am surely earning myself trying to look better without than with, will someday come as deeply into fashion as the priceless plastic and titanium that so taunts me now, face after face, day after day.
me, scrunchy-faced, being shuttled, a bit like cattle, from one remoteness to another
1 comment:
wow man. you made my heart stop.
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