Awkward!

Because I am a narcissist, I am obsessed with figuring out what I look like. And also, because I am confused. Globally, I’m talking. Existentially! I really, really, really can’t figure out what I look like. Hence, there is a lot of staring in the mirror chez Pistol. I find photographs of myself fascinating and perplexing, even if they are of the back of my head, or my elbow. I gaze at them for a long time, trying to discern the essence of my corporeal self.

What an asshole, right?

Even with all that effort, if I come upon an unexpected mirror and catch a surprise glimpse of myself, I’m like, who’s that? And if I’m reading a fashion magazine and they have one of those guides to finding the best hairstyle or eyeglasses for your face shape, I can never figure out which shape my face is. Oval? Square? Round? Heart-shaped? I don’t know! When I meet an aquaintance on the street, I am always worried that he or she won’t recognize me. Do I look like anything? Do I even have a face? Also, once Lefty referred to me as a blonde, and my mind is still blown. Aren’t I a brown?

Last week at acupuncture, Dr. Chen said, “You know who you’ve always reminded me of?”

I pricked up my ears. My pulse quickened. Maybe this was it! The crucial, light-shedding celebrity comparison!

“The girl from the George Michael video for ‘Father Figure.’”

You guys, whoa. I mean, is there a way to make that not pervy? Because to me it seems indubitably pervy. If this were 1988 and the video for “Father Figure” was on MTV even two minutes, it would be a different story. This is not 1988. One does not still think about the video for “Father Figure” unless it made a big impression on one. Seckshually. Shudder.

Never before have I felt even the tiniest prickle of pervitude from the good Dr. Chen. He is jocular and polite; he asks me in-depth questions about my menstrual cycle and digestion; he sticks needles in me and sometimes electrocutes them.

Back at home, I watched the video with great interest.

I am pretty sure I look nothing like her. I am not really a thoroughbred-dominatrix-80s-model type. Bangs, yeah. But I’m a blonde, remember?

Firecracker was obsessed with this video when we were fillies. Especially the part where the woman possibly says Fuck while applying lipstick [4:50]. The whole thing freaked me out completely. The sex! The fights! The gritty New York nights! I was the younger sister. Just a girl! And a bit of a prude. What amazes me now is that we could have believed in George Michael’s heterosexuality. In retrospect, we should’ve been suspicious of the fact that he has to drive his damn taxi through that tunnel twice [1:06, 4:30]. Methinks thou doth protest too much, dude! But what did we know. It was 1988 and we were a couple of innocents who thought it perfectly plausible that he would make out with a human female in her underwear [3:39]! Which brings me to the next point:

HAS DR. CHEN BEEN PICTURING ME MAKING OUT WITH GEORGE MICHAEL IN MY UNDERWEAR ALL THIS TIME???

And walking down a runway carrying a riding crop [2:07]? And standing in front of a window in a black bra [4:16], and cheating on George Michael with another dude [4:20], and inexplicably going aggro on a photographer [4:46], unless maybe that was the guy she cheated with–can’t tell!–and so on. I would never do any of that stuff! Sheesh!

Anyway, I still don’t know what I look like.

by Pistol Whip | 10 February 2008 | narcissism, the mind boggles, creepy | Comments