You Down with BDD?

I think I have Body dysmorphic disorder but that’s mostly because I’m fat and ugly. Well, that’s not entirely true. The parts of me that aren’t fat and ugly are weird looking. I’m not sure when it started. Must have been in the last couple of years.

I’ve never liked having my picture taken. When I was 3, mom forced me to wear some awful red German overall outfit like I should be hiking in the Alps. In spite of my protestations and bawling my eyes out, that moment was captured on film. Hooray. I can only take pictures with some big smile or by trying to turn myself invisible. The picture here on the blog was my best compromise. I’m bad at it. I’m sorry. I hate it. I can deal with a quick picture but the moment it turns into a hassle longer than 10 seconds I panic. I feel like the world is going to end. I hate it. I know I will be judged later.

There’s an acting exercise where you take a physical fault and feature it for everyone to see. I wouldn’t know where to begin at this point. My hair has pretty much stayed the same since I was 4. Baby fine. My freshman year of college it was decided my acne would be aggressively treated so I took big tetracycline pills and Retin-A. That left me with a handful of scars and a hairline that went back a couple of inches. The recession stopped after that. The skin is still a little pock-marked. Over the last couple of years, my hair has decided to be permanently bed headed.

I have a friend who has done the laser resurfacing treatment. She had good skin to start with so it was more of fine detail work. I feel like it would be a slippery slope. I read there are more plastic surgeons working here in NYC than in LA, which really surprised me.

My agent hasn’t sent me out for much lately. What I have been seen for has been boring suburban dads. Schlubby guys in their 40s. I still have a couple of years left in my 30s. I guess there’s more work for older guys in their 40s. I guess. I don’t know.

I think life would have been a lot easier if I was simply born attractive. I’m not and I’m really trying to get a grip on that. I’m short. I can’t drop 10 pounds. I’ve been working out a lot. Honest. I just can’t drop it. I have to switch to one of those middle age people diets of a spoon of tuna and a protein shake.

A guy who went to college with me recently sent pictures from a couple of shows we did. I was shirtless for this one play. I was 128 pounds. I thought I was heavy then because I was 119 the year prior. At my current height. Now I’m 158. I saw a picture from a reading I did a year or so ago and my face was so fat.

People stare at me on the train but it’s usually creepy people. I’m trying to accept this and have a healthy attitude about it. I know I get kicked figuratively by certain people because I’m not that attractive. The mimbos at work who are kind of dumb get treated better than me.

I get very sad about this until I bottom out and then I can take on more. If I wanted life of comfort I certainly wouldn’t have come to this town. It just takes it out of you when you keep going up and are made to feel like you are lacking.

Last Saturday I was in a bar on the Upper West Side. It was around 11pm. My friends were all engage in conversation with each other and I was excluded for an hour. No big deal except the bar was loud and packed with 20-somethings aggressively on the prowl. I did not exist and it was only heightened a 100 percent by being there.

I need to do something creative. I’ve put off seeing my career coach because it will mean I have to put myself out there and I don’t think I can handle being rejected by agents or casting directors because of my looks. The fame train left my station years ago.

I refuse to make anymore solo performances. I don’t want to have to carry all the judgment. Then, that’s all people think I can do. Idiots.

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