confessions of a mirror

i used to know some girls who would spend HOURS a day looking at themselves in the mirror. i have no idea what they were looking at and why it took so long. it’s not like looking at yourself will change the way you look. anyways, point being, i really don’t spend much time in front of the mirror. at most, i see my face for a moment when i brush my teeth…mostly to make sure i don’t have toothpaste splattered in unflattering places on my face (as opposed to flattering toothpaste splatters), and when i dress i have a look to see what i look like. but it’s more like i’m looking at my outfit and not at me.

and then, there are days when i’m in shorts and a tank top, i look down and it’s like i’m seeing my legs for the first time. and it’s amazing how all of a sudden there’s a constellation of mosquito bites ALL OVER THE PLACE!!! when the hell did those little fuckers get me? i could play dot-to-dot on my legs, take a picture, stick it on a wall, and call it art. abstract art bitches. read into the dots and tell me what you seeeeeeee.

and then it’s like this glorious, astonishing journey full of surprises. OMG. MOLE! have i always had that mole? is it new? I HAVE ANOTHER NEW MOLE. let me pick at it.  oh wait. it’s dirt. yups. it came off. definitely dirt. but there are new spots and speckles i discover and it’s weird to learn new things about your own body.

so then, i start looking in other places. like, just about 30 mins ago, i looked under my armpit. yes. armpit. it’s a place i’ve never really looked before. (i mean really, who pays that much attention to the actual armpit when you shave? i’m just usually thinking, “ew. hair. when did you grow so long? be gone be gone be gone!!). and my conclusion is this: an armpit is a strange place. i also have a freckle there (i may have just discovered it. it’s not dirt).

then i looked at my arm (under the armpit) and…it’s much bigger than the how i had sized my arm in my head. so i pinch it (like any normal curious young woman on the road to self discovery) and i learn another new thing about myself: it’s squishy. i imagine that’s what a mollusk would feel like (maybe a mildly toned mollusk?). so i pinch the side/back of my arm. i pinch my way down and take note of how the texture changes (are those fat cells? why does it feel that way? would it be weird to pinch a friend’s under armpit-back-arm to compare?), and i end up at the elbow.

do you know the skin on your elbow is called a weenus. yes. a weenus. weeeeeeeenus. google that shit if you don’t believe me. anyways, the weenus is such an interesting part of the body, you can pinch as hard as you want, you can pull and stretch it and you feel no pain! how awesome is that? too bad the rest of our body isn’t as resilient.

speaking of which. I HAVE BRUISES ALL OVER THE PLACE. in nepali some people look at bruises and say bokshile tokeko. i don’t see what it really has to do with a witch’s bite (wouldn’t you bruise just the same if a human bit you? isn’t that what hickies are? omg. hickies. i haven’t had those in years!) but what i do have are bruises. all over the place. it’s almost like someone took purple and greenish grey paint and sponged it all over me. oh mai god. my body is a work of art.

i am art.

(wait, if my body is art, would it be weird if i sold my body?…but like…it’s art…not for sex…)

i got sidetracked–weenus. is there a name for the inside of your elbow? that’s a funny spot too. and knees. knees are strange. my right knee is like a slashing of scars. there used to be three dots of scars right on my knee…and over the years as i grew and my skin moved, the scars shifted to the side of my knee. and there are other scars all around my knee (and a freckle too, definitely not dirt). those scars have been there as long as i can remember…one day i asked my mother how i got those scars. and she didn’t know. which worries me. if these scars have been there for as long as i’ve been aware of my body, i must have hurt myself pretty fucking bad when i was a kid. is it weird that my mother can’t offer me an explanation? because if my mother can’t tell me, i am left to guess. my top three guess are as follows:

1) i was abducted by aliens and they experimented on my knees. maybe they left a tracking device and erased my mother’s memory as she valiantly fought to save her little baby girl.

2) i have no other theories.

3) i would feel bad saying i had three guesses and only listing two items.

oh man, i got side tracked again. damn aliens.
now i can’t stop pinching skin around the armpit area. i’m pretty sure when i started this i had other things i wanted to write about, but what could you possibly write as a follow up to weenus?

in a mostly unrelated note–tonight i decided mosquitoes would make for amazing spies. i don’t know how they do it, but they must have some mad skills to be able to get under my clothes and bite me in the strangest of places.  and now, after all this, i don’t know how to end this blogpost.

here’s a fun word to leave everyone with: malapropism.

  1. kreeti said:

    Hehe… Fun read! Didn’t find ‘malapropism’ in the regular Encarta dictionary. Had to Google it!

  2. icanwritesomething said:

    hehe, i pinched on my weenus, yes no pain ! hehehe

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