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August 25, 2006
Baby got back
Firstly, let me say that when I write things like, "I have Mel Gibson's ass ... just a more Hebrew-friendly version," I'm joking. I really have no idea what kind of ass I have. It seems to be round enough to keep my tools from dipping into the water as I'm reading in the library -- but this may be as much a function of me not having Tommy Lee's drumstick as anything else.
What I'm trying to say is that I don't think I have an inflated version of any of my male attributes. Wait, that's not true. I do think I have nice legs (except for the varicose veins and those will be taken care of soon enough) -- but only from the standpoint that I'll never look like a potato on toothpicks ... you've seen those guys.
I could go on and listing my various insecurities. And, I mean, on and on. It would be a time saver for both of us if you just start at the beginning of this blog and work your way through to today's entry and make note of any insecurity you happen across.
On a good day I think I'm incredibly average when I comes to appearance. Which, of course, makes me Brad Pitt like.
Once in a while I'll mention trips to the gym. Let me restate here that if you were to see me in the gym I'd be one of the normal looking guys. More precisely, one of the normal looking guys walking with a normal gait. Not one of the normal-looking guys with large phantom arms and lats. You've seen this guy too -- he looks average but has massive arms that are invisible to all but himself and that makes him walk with them sort of hanging out from his sides so they don't rub his massive invisible-to-all-but-himself lats. A lot of these guys are in their early 20s. And virgins.
Other days I'll go into great detail about riding my bike -- simply because it is something I did that day. And, really, almost getting mowed down by a little old lady has some humor to it. As does getting a bit lost. I don't think I'm a great cyclist or that I look particularly fetching in cycling shorts (though, I think cycling shorts elevates my ass to more of a Heath Ledger-ness.) (I think I look like a goober in cycling shorts. Everybody does. But they are sooooo comfortable.)
I do think I'm funny on occasion. It certainly doesn't come across here all the time, and I accept the fact that I will turn out a lame joke as fast as anyone else.
Oh. And I'm a delight to be around. I honestly think people like me when they meet me. Or at the very least are indifferent toward me. It's a time saver not having to spend precious moments wondering what someone thinks of me. I just assume I'm loved by all -- or most -- but don't give it too much thought after that. Maybe I think people like me because I'm too lazy to put serious thought into interpersonal relationships.
Nothing screams insecure like starting a blog entry with a disclaimer.
I will now relate several stories that might make you think I'm full of myself if you didn't know me. You might want to read these over the next couple of days as, well, tomorrow at least we'll be discussing my pituitary tumor a little more.
So, Wednesday (my birthday) I made a trip to the endocrinologist to visit and leave some blood. I approached the counter with my new insurance card in my hand -- my provider had changed -- and handed it to the gal behind the counter. For the record, also in that office area were the blond and the blood-taker. All three persons were female.
The gal behind the counter took my card without saying anything to me (like, "Hello Delmer") and looked at it. She then looked at me, back at the card, and then back at me and said, "You have lost a lot of weight."
And I have. I'm down just over 140 pounds, and about 40 pounds since the gal behind the counter last saw me (10 months ago).
"Thank you," I said. And then looking at the blond I added, "I'm trying to get better at accepting compliments." The blond acknowledged the progress I'd made since my last visit when she had complimented me on my progress and I sort of stammered before saying "Thank you?"
"If you guys start whispering among yourselves as I walk away," I started, "I'll assume you're talking about my tushy which will make for a nice birthday present." I expected some good-natured laughter. Which I got -- followed by something I didn't expect.
"Turn around and let us have a look," said the gal behind the counter.
"Oh, um ... " I stammered. "Now I'm just a bit embarrassed."
I was able to distract the women by pulling my co-pay out of my pocket and handing it across the counter. We talked a bit about my diet secrets and then I turned to take a seat.
"It does look pretty good," said the gal behind the counter.
It was nice of her to keep the joke going.
Last week, and this is a story for my buddies Roy, Darrell, Dave and Joe, I was taking a stroll down Avery Road. I was about 3.5 miles into a four mile stroll and was listening to some Foghat on my MP3 player. I heard a horn honk followed by some yelling. When I looked over there was a jeep full of girls waving at me. They all seemed to be about in their 20's and they had a great enough interest in waving that the girls in the back spun around so they could get the most amount of waving time in. They might have been super models.
Really, I think a lot of guys would have eaten this up. Me, I found myself thinking, you have no idea how old I am. It would have been easy enough for me to be as old as their fathers. And this was when I was 45.
I don't think they were waving at every guy they passed on the street -- I'm guessing Abe Vigoda wouldn't have gotten a honk and a wave (too much danger of setting off a heart attack), neither would have the Delmer of 140 pounds ago -- but I think most other types of guys might have been fair game. That is, I just happened to be in the right place at the right time.
A few days later I was on the Schwinn and a young lady hung out the window of the car she was in and gave me a long, drawn out "heeeyyy." I believe she was yelling at every guy she passed. And she may have been a bit tipsy. And, again, she had no idea how old I am (the sunglasses hide the crows feet.)
Earlier this week a redhead in a greenish Altima honked and threw me a wave as I was out walking. It was the woman who used to be married to me. But, at my age, you count them all.
It would seem I am all things to all women. So long as those women are in a vehicle of some sort and driving away from me.
You'll notice that this post appears late Friday night (Hmmm ... it would seem I accidentally posted a partial version of this about 5 p.m. That was not my intention). The pituitary post will appear early Saturday morning, giving this post the Delmer's Blog Spotlight for just a couple of hours. My insecurities are such that I have to post something quickly after this entry so it is sort of lost in the blog. I can't not post this entry -- I've had "A more Hebrew-friendly version of Mel Gibson's ass" floating around in my head for days and wanted to see it in print.
Posted by delmer at August 25, 2006 10:32 PM
Comments
Yeah, I had a girl tell me at work the other day that I was a good looking, slim man who had beautiful eyes and I took the compliment as well as I could without becoming embarrassed.
Darrell
P.S. Did I mention she was 87?
Posted by: Darrell at August 26, 2006 8:31 AM
She was obviously looking for a Boy Toy.
Posted by: delmer at August 26, 2006 10:18 AM
Today I had the attention of part of the hockey team at my new college. I don't care if they were just being nice. I'm going to fantasize that they didn't realize I was over a decade older than they are.
I say we take our compliments in the BEST light we can, even if it's dellusional!!! :)
So where's the pictures??? I have to see the bod in question, ya know.
Posted by: Kyra at August 26, 2006 5:41 PM
Kyra,
Congrats on the Hockey Team nod.
Years and years ago I -- I was about 18 -- I was in the mall with some buddies. An older woman was coming our way ... she was probably all of 30 ... and I said to my friends, "Here comes an attractive older woman."
The acoustics were such that my voice carried and she heard me, which my buddies pointed out to me. She seemed flattered.
Er, um (this is my version of comment stammering) ... out of respect for the readership ... there will be no boo-tay shots of me.
Posted by: delmer at August 26, 2006 11:43 PM