Vanity

It's a cliché, but I have a good side. Aesthetically. Especially when my hair is short. From my left my most striking features are my square jawline, focussed yet mischievous eyes, a nose that is... vigilant... Spin me around 180 degrees and an explosion of a cowlick combined with a trio of distinctive moles changes my whole demeanour. My right eye swims in a sea of vacant skin, stripping my steely expression of confidence away and leaving a more startled, weary looking gaze. Like a kindergartener's drawing: No straight lines, curious design choices.

I've only really noticed this difference in sides recently. Currently my primary toilet is installed below a large mirror and, if there's one thing I do consistently in life, it is not look down while I'm urinating. What I've learned from having this mirror is that my face looks really good when I'm doing a wee. Especially when I'm looking at my good side. Staring back at me is a man who is confident, unworried by the task at hand. Ready for whatever life may throw at him. He's proud. He's smiling, coolly. He is in total control, but he's relaxed.

This is a slight over-share I guess, but if you could see me, you'd understand why I'm mentioning it. Every time I see this expression on my face I can only wonder: why isn't this my driver's license photo? My passport ID? My LinkedIn profile pic? Before me is the face of a man you'd trust, you'd hire. A man you'd believe in. A man you might die for.

And then I finish. I turn to my left to wash my hands and I'm confronted by my right side. My bad side, and then all that vanity disappears down the drain.

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