you often hear people talk about image. in certain professions, image is everything. yet it is politically incorrect to say so. we all want to reassure ourselves that “what’s inside counts”. try having your image changed without your permission. now that’s something to think about. never have i felt so shallow as when i have to call my boss monday morning to tell him that i won’t be in to work because i don’t look like me. some people stare with awe, others with pity, still others with sheer disgust. but when i look in the mirror i feel lost. i don’t see myself staring back at me. i see someone who is not me and therefore i feel like my identity has been stripped away. funny, because so much of who i am has nothing to do with how i look. even more funny that i change my appearance and somehow feel like i have succeeded in altering my identity. what a lie. the fact that my hair is or is not present, the gauge of my ears, or the size of my dress should have nothing to do with who i am. but it does. am i shallow? or is the expression of who i am manifested in my appearance? what would happen if the unwilling physical alterations weren’t hives, but were more permanent? would i be able to pull myself out of me despite the image? i have a friend who injects saline into his forehead to alter his appearance and freak people out. i used to admire his bravery and the social experiment. now i secretly envy his ability to choose a willed transformation.

unwillingly transformed