I was relegated to the realms of dorkiness from a young age. Go to the downstairs living room at my parents' house and look at photos of me at a young age. I had glasses when I was like seven. Not cool glasses, huge squarish glasses that covered half my face. I've also been a bibliophile from a young age, my bespectacled face always buried in one book or another. My mom worked evenings at a local library, some of my happiest memories were going to work with her and spending the whole night reading.
I was always generally average in height, scarily below-average in weight. I'm gangly, my thin limbs swinging around like intoxicated spider. I've always loved sports, but had to rely on my enthusiasm and hustle to make up for my lack of physical athleticism.
I played video games. Correction - I'm almost 27 and I still play video games. Religiously. I'm actually in an online football league with guys I met . . . on an online forum . . . about a college football video game. I am the epitome of nerd. I even have the grades to prove it (but strangely enough, no love for Star Trek).
Around the age of 15 I gave up the glasses for contacts. Amazingly enough, it still didn't make me cool. This summer I've made an effort to spend some sunny afternoons by the pool, hoping that this will be the first time . . . ever . . . that I'll avoid either being ghostly pale or having a ridiculous farmer's tan.
I'm also working out more, jogging a couple miles a day even in the 90 degree heat, forcing myself to use the Total Gym in our bedroom each day. With any luck my scrawny body will develop some sort of definition (why I think this will happen now after 27 years of looking like an emaciated vampire, I don't know).
Maybe I can avoid telling people that some of my favorite days are rainy afternoons curled up with a good book, or a marathon session of some video game. Maybe I can improve my verbal communication, project an air of confidence, and improve my wardrobe. Maybe I can even find a way to fix my thinning hair (seriously, I went from acne to baldness with nothing in between, FML).
But I find myself wondering about my motivations. Am I trying to prove something? Is it a delayed reaction to all those girls in high school (yes, even us homeschoolers occasionally saw a girl. Notice I said "saw", not "talked to") and college? I'm kinda doubting that's the reason. True, I'm still wracked by insecurity, but it helps that I ended up marrying a beautiful girl way out of my league.
No, I think it's something else. I've always been a dork, and more importantly a self-proclaimed dork. I took something I didn't like and made it my identity, something I could laugh at and hide behind. I thought I could take the sting out of it by making jokes. I did such a good job that a girl (only a friend of course) even incorporated the word "dork" into her nickname for me. If nothing else, it was another mask to hide behind.
Lately I've been trying to make my way through these layers of fake selves. I'm trying to be more honest, to be less of an image and more of a person. And so I'm letting go of the dork persona. And it's uncomfortable moving closer to the surface. It's awkward letting myself be seen. So I find another mask, an idealized self that is tan and in great shape.
The nice thing about these fake selves is that they make good buffers for rejection. If someone doesn't like the image I put out there, I still feel ok because they're not reacting to who I really am. I can be rejected without myself being rejected. But once I peel off these masks, once my real self is out there, rejection hurts. What do I tell myself then when people don't like me?
So hesitantly, I put pen to paper (or fingertip to keyboard), and peek out just a little. Next step - actually telling people I have a blog.
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