Passport to Fat-Faced realization.

Today was a day that was filled with accomplishment, satisfaction and acceptance. The accomplishment was made manifest by my ability to finally get my passport in order without any interruptions. The satisfaction came when I saw all the official documents had been completed...completely. And the acceptance portion was when I realized how shitty I look in the morning time.

This is my real fucking face. 

As the partially deaf dude at FedEx Kinko's handed me a pair of passport snapshots of my portly, crow-footed face, I came to the realization that I am older, fatter and just not that great looking. (By the way, the name Kinko's always makes me think of a Japanese breakfast cereal for sadomasochists.) Anyhow, today was the day of accepting the hand my face was dealt, or the hand I dealt my face.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not cool with this at all. Today's revelation coupled with many of my Facebook friends' reminiscent posts of "skinny days gone by," have left me in slight disarray. Ya see, now I have to accept what I currently look like. The picture was taken by third party. This guy had no reason to make me look shitty on purpose, he was just doing his job. I found myself flashing through past situations where I had done Itouch self-portriats, retaking shots in perfect light until I looked presentable. Carefully angling the camera as to not catch my fat neck, ill place moles or my gigantic hips.  I concluded that I was no better that those trashy women's magazine touch-up artists.

My passport's initial purpose was to get me legal entry into Japan in September, but it seems it's role has taken a painfully swift turn, allowing me wonder the honest streets of Fat-faced Realization. If I don't change my ways/diet now, Japan is gonna get all the American stereotype they can handle come September.