|This is my real fucking 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.