Moonage Daydream

Back when my self esteem sat at the bottom of the adolescent well, looking up, I listened to every new taunt and sneer as if it were constructive criticism. I had a "friend" who would greet me with a list of what he considered to be my faults, most of which were found in my appearance, though some were directed at my choices of friends and extracurricular activities. "Zitface, birdsnest, tuba," was how this litany started. The first one was obvious. The second was a reference to my unruly mop of hair. The third was a double swipe at both my weight and my participation in band. If I had to be in that group, couldn't I at least play a cool instrument? Who plays the tuba?
I did. And I wore glasses. And I didn't have a single clue about how to go about getting a girlfriend. That was, according to my "friend," the reason he was taking all this time and effort out of his otherwise busy day to describe my limitations. It was in hopes that I could do something about the craters on my face and run a comb through my hair and get some cool clothes and maybe stop being all the things that I was. Carrying that lunchbox didn't help matters at all.
This is why I flinch when I hear my son and his friends "playing" with each other, as they describe it, and one of them lands a verbal punch in what I assume is the other's emotional solar plexus. They like to call my son "Unibrow." I see it as a genetic reminder of the prodigious caterpillar that crawls just above his father's eyes. It is distinct and proud.
To me. It may also be part of my son's motivation to try contact lenses. We both started wearing glasses when we were about five years old. We have the same kind of lazy eye. He's a lot more courageous than I am because he is willing to stick his finger in his eye. For the sake of beauty. Or maybe it's convenience. He doesn't have to worry about his glasses getting left behind or sat upon or crushed in any tumultuous way. He just has to stick his finger in his eye.
I suppose this is how I know that evolution is real.