Digression
By H.G. Miller
Editor’s note: the following contains subject matter that is somewhat childish and may be considered offensive to some readers. Namely: poo.
There are pros and cons to living 2000 miles away from most of your friends and family. The major con, of course, is that you can only see loved ones once, maybe twice a year. However, because of the timing, you tend to pay more attention during those visits, and the quality of the time is usually greater than the average drop in.
So, it was Christmas break and I should have been having the greatest of times watching football with my buddies in Kansas City (the Chiefs complete lack of heart in Oakland, notwithstanding). Unfortunately, as the game played on and my friends cheered and yelled at the television, I could not participate.
I was in the crapper.
Let me tell you about what else happens when you go home for a week. You allow yourself certain liberties.
“I’m going to sleep in this week”
“I’m going to wear blue jeans every day”
“I’m going to screw my diet and eat some real meat”
Let’s examine that last one for a moment, because I did more than have a steak or two (or eight). I added some hamburgers, a half-ton of French fries and enough cheese to make a small African nation constipated.
Apparently, my father has since told me, it takes about six weeks for the bacteria in your digestive track to adjust to new eating habits. Don’t ask me how he knows these things. He just does. It’s a little scary, I know.
So, not giving the friendly bacteria between my colon and the rest of the world the six weeks they needed, they decided to just take everything I’d shoved in my mouth for the previous week and kick it on out with no concerns to my social calendar.
Hence, while the Chiefs’ defense was busy rolling over and playing dead at the Raider’s stadium, I was staring at myself in the giant mirror opposite my friend’s toilet and learning that I grimace in a way not too dissimilar to that of porn stars working their fourth scene of the day.
And, if I may digress for a moment, what is it with people putting giant mirrors in bathrooms directly behind or opposite the toilets? When I’m taking a leak, the last thing I want to do is watch myself taking a leak. And, when I’m taking a crap, I for sure don’t want to watch myself doing that.
I understand mirrors over sinks. Check for food in teeth, re-touch the hairdo or try to cover up freakishly discolored pimples. That’s cool. But I’ve always preferred to use my time on the toilet for self reflection and inner dialogue.
This whole “let’s check out what I look like when I’m doing the basest of human activities” is just another example of the vanity that is slowly destroying our culture. In a “me first” society, can we realistically expect to overcome our differences, embrace diversity and build a better tomorrow?
What’s that?
A digression, yes.
Hold on… here it is:
di • gress
(di gress’, di-)
vi.
[
L.
dis-
, apart +
gradi
, to go] to turn aside, esp. from the main subject, in talking or writing
There, I hope we’ve all learned something. I know I have.