More on Self-Torture

Not unlike a fart in the wind the recent "good date" has drifted away. I realized I could continue down the path of what the hell did I do untill I thought about Bed, Bath and Beyond....stay with me. I used to hate that store. Its full of tiny gadgets and little shit everywhere...like floor to ceiling. Despite my dislike of stores full of crazy shit, my ever maturing grown up, cook-for-myself-and-sometimes-my-friends-and-do-not-give-them-an-illness lifestyle requires the purchase of the occasional kitchen gadget. You can make the circle at the old BB&B and just before you hit the checkout is the dreaded "SHELF FULL OF MAGNIFYING MIRRORS". They come in every power...all the way from oh,no is that a zit to HOLY SHIT I THINK I'M GROWING A HANDLEBAR MUSTACHE". The temptation to study the size and contents of my pores and evaluate the future wrinkles (made visible by the "see 20 years into the future model") is like trying to figure out just what went sour on a good date. I could look and study for a long time...the longer I look the more I will find. The more I will be afraid and the less I will wanna show my face later. And let's face it florescent lighting and magnifying mirrors are probably no honest woman's friend. So I guess. I'll practice what I'm always preaching,ease up on myself, and wait for the dude who magnifies my good stuff.