I have a serious problem. I’m living in Bali, and when I talk to my girlfriend Cortney long-distance on Skype, I spend most of my time looking at that little one-inch by one-inch square in the bottom right corner to see what I look like while I’m talking.
I mess with my hair, pulling it up, out, back. I bug out my eyes or squint. I twist my lips into Jim Carrey-like distortions. I practice my ‘How are you feeling?’ poster faces — happy, sad, glad. And I swing my head from left to right like I’m watching a tennis match to remind myself which side is my best side. If you want to know, it’s my right, which better hides my crooked father-fixed nose and what might be a cancer splotch on my left cheek. Of course, instead of my eyes moving with my head, they rotate in their sockets to make sure I’m never out of sight, as if I’m filming my own YouTube video to Tupac’s “All Eyez on Me.”