Mirrors

  I was in a department store a few days back and got a good look at myself in a fitting room mirror. Maybe it was the lighting, maybe it was that I was looking into a mirror in a place other than my own home, but the image that looked back at me actually startled me. "Is this what I look like?" Late 30's me trying to look like mid- 20's me?

My shirt was two sizes too large and my jeans were one one size too big. It was a look that, like I said, I could have pulled off 10 to 12 or so years earlier, but now I appeared to be swimming in the ensemble. Not to mention the fact that I hadn't shaved in a over a week allowed for the patchy growth of facial hair along with a failed attempt at growing a goatee on a face that just doesn't fair well in the symmetrical growth department gave me the appearance of some disheveled homeless vagrant.
I would think that this would be something that I would have caught many years ago. I mean, really?
It may have something to do with the fact that I don't really consider myself a "looker," and any time spent in front of a mirror are to make sure there's no food on my face, or when I do shave, that I didn't miss any spots. Other than that it's just passing glances.

As I write this I'm thinking to myself that maybe I was finally forced to look at my physical self because I was in this small, unfamiliar space with nothing else to focus on but the image of how people see me staring right back at me.


In that moment I became embarrassed. I tried to fix up my clothes as not to look so "dumpy," but to no avail. Yes, I did have articles of clothing that I took with me into the fitting room, but I couldn't just swap out clothes. I was already feeling 1,000 eyes on me. As a black man going into any establishment you sometimes feel as though you have to be extra mindful of things; keep your hands out of your pockets and visible. Don't spend too much time in one area or focusing on one thing. Don't get too close to the merchandise. Make sure that if you do pick up an item it can be seen at all times until you purchase it. In the case of this department store it was like, "Only 6 Items Allowed at One Time in Dressing Rooms." So, I made sure that as I was going to the dressing room you could clearly see that I had six items. I tried things on quickly and made sure to put them back on the hangars. When I was done I made sure that you could clearly see I was walking back out with those same six items that I walked in there with. You know that the security camera is on you. You can feel it on you. So, the option of putting on clothes and then paying for them was off the table.

I make it back out onto the retail floor, but now I'm sweating a bit. I do understand that there are times when you think that the focus is on you when really the people around you could care less. This could be one of those times but my mind is still on the image in that mirror. Not only did I come all the way in here looking like that, but I have to go all the way out looking like that. I initially went into this store to replace a pair of jeans that had finally given up on me, but was now on a quest to purchase an entire wardrobe. Luckily an understanding of my lack of shopping for clothing for myself coupled with limited finances prevented me from walking out of there with bags in tow like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.

My exit plan was going to be simple: Purchase what I need, head straight for the exit. No eye contact with anyone, head down. Don't walk to fast, people might think something is wrong with you. Don't walk too slow, people might think something is wrong with you. If a vendor tries to get your attention you say, "No thanks," or, "I'm good," and keep it moving. Once you get back to your truck you can breathe a sigh of relief, put on some music and put on your facade of being a cool bad-ass until you can get back home, away from all these eyes judging you, and out of what you at one point though were decent clothes.

Why was I dressing that way? I've had more than enough time to sit and think about the person on the inside, but I didn't give too much thought to the person on the outside. The person on the inside understands a lot of how events in the past have shaped me into the person I am today. The person on the inside understands that late is better than never. The person on the inside is mindful of what is going on in the world around him. It's just the person on the outside who must have been daydreaming. Reminiscing about things in the past. "I'm Rob Lowe, and I have Direct TV." That's the guy on the inside. "I'm Peaked-in-High-School Rob Lowe, and I have cable." That's the guy on the outside. Although, I didn't peak in high school, no not hardly. I believe that I reached the summit around the same time I reached the summit of Mt. Fuji in Japan. This was during that brief period of time that I spent in the United States Marine Corps on a little island called Okinawa. I can honestly say this is where life "began" for me. This is where I was recognized, where I was accepted, where I first experienced life with all its ups and downs.

Once I stepped on that airplane and left that place things were never the same. The five to six years after that were a confusing mix of ecstasy and agony. Throw in there a little thing called the Iraq War and we begin to understand the contrast between being there, living on Okinawa and post Okinawa back in the U.S. Then again, if we were to compare all the events of our lives to some of our most memorable then we would all be living in a state of perpetual depression. 

Seeing myself in that mirror was a wake-up call. In that moment a gained more awareness of who I was, where I was, and what I was doing. It allowed me to make a change so that I'm not that old guy wearing the outfit of a 20-something year old. The best way I know how to explain it to where it makes sense is to use the situation where that guy in Ohio had those three girls locked up in his basement for 10 years. Abducted as teenagers, when they were finally rescued they were well into their 20's yet they way they spoke and their mannerisms were still those of the teenagers they were those many years ago. Being in captivity for so long stunted them mentally and socially pretty much keeping them as teenagers despite the atrocities they survived. I can count myself among these people in the respect that I feel that at a certain point in my life I became socially stunted. I interacted less with other people my own age which gave way to me feeling awkward around peers. In order alleviate this I tend to always wear some type of Marine Corps memorabilia. Be it a hat, a shirt, decals on my truck, or the tattoos on my body, I always make it known that I was, am, and will always be a United States Marine. Fortunately it is something that you never outgrow. The title earned is the title forever. This is my way of maintaining relevance. My way of not becoming just another face in the crowd. Call it a coping mechanism, or call it being unable to let go of the past. Just understand that without it I feel as if I would be swallowed whole by the world, and once I have passed on I
would be nothing more than a name on a tombstone.

I made a trip to another branch of the same department store a few days after the first. I was dressed a little better, and didn't really have to utilize the fitting room as I learned what sizes fit me best and what look I was going for. With shirts I went for a smaller size than what what I normally wore, and with pants and jeans I scaled it back on both waist and length. I guess you can say it was more age appropriate. It's funny how there are things about you that you don't see until you look into not just any mirror, but that one mirror.