You Can Be A Winner In The Game Of Life

I’ve been wearing shorts more lately.

This may not seem like such a big deal, but those who know me well know that my legs never see the light of day. Genetics have blessed me with what MoMa always referred to as “chicken legs.” Even as a kid, when I was quite the runner and had fairly powerful legs, they were tiny, powerful legs. Over the years, my insecurity about my scrawny little legs has led to another embarrassing problem…blindingly white skin. It’s a great combo. Imagine an otherwise normally proportioned guy walking around on lit fluorescent tubes for legs. And so, for years I have hid my shame behind thick denim even in the middle of August. My closet holds only four pairs of shorts. Three are basketball-style, brightly colored and elasticy. I use these to lounge around the house in and as sleep wear when I go a-visitin’. The final pair are beige multi-pocketed things that someone, at sometime in the past, left at my house. I use them for yard work…but only when it’s really hot.

However, things have been changing lately. I find myself wearing those beige shorts to work in the yard even on cool days…and then keeping them on when I go out to a store later that day. This is a big deal. It only happens occasionally, but considering that I have lost the use of my other three pair of shorts since Moonshot’s rounded tummy has greater need of the elastic than I do, my one pair of shorts is getting some heavy use lately. I even went to a restaurant in then last week.

So the real question is, “What changed?” My legs are no more glamorous than before. Their increased but still very limited exposure to sunbeams have not diminished their iridescent qualities. Nor have I suddenly sprouted new-found muscle mass that I wish to flaunt. The answer is that to some small degree, I’ve stopped caring. Oh, I’m still neurotically aware of my own shortcomings, but I just find that I’m less interested in other people’s opinions about my shortcomings.

The next obvious question, therefore is, “What caused this new boost in self-confidence?” And I think I have the answer. At least partially, it’s because I’ve already won. Yup, in the Game of Life, I’m a winner! I have navigated the biological and social perils of existence and have found a mate. I have impregnated that mate and my genes will now enter the next generation. My primary function as a living being has been accomplished and I can therefore bask in the glorious apathy that is my prize . And while I do plan on going through this reproduction phase again…my mate is already chosen and need not be courted in the traditional “hide my defects and trick her into thinking I’m a prime genetic specimen” manner. My primate brain has decided that the effort spent masking my deficiencies is no longer worth the potential benefit. And so I am no longer concerned that my lack of lower body development is a turn-off for the cute waitress at Ruby Tuesdays

Now, this same logic has led many Winners in the Game of Life to the assumption that they can now “let themselves go.” Mate found and genetic immortality secured, the body becomes the victim of atrophy and unwanted expansion. I am not claiming this as my view and am hoping that it won’t be phase two of my “I don’t care” revolution. It’s one thing to say that since the only person whose opinion I care about is already well aware of my puny legs, I have no need to hide them from the rest of the world. It’s another thing entirely to say that since my spouse will stick around no matter what I look like…I might as well tub out and buy a La-Z Boy with a beer fridge in it.

On the whole, I’m quite curious to see where this new line of thought will lead me. It’s baby steps to self-improvement to be sure, but the shorts are clear proof that a new line of thought has entered my subconscious. However, to those of you who may be exposed to my florescent legs in the near future…I can only apologize.