As I have mentioned before I live in Los Angeles a city that is all about fashion, money and who looks the best as one does the runway in the street. I confess to have certain self esteem issues which to this day I battle constantly. I mean who doesn’t? everyone has at one point thought about changing something about themselves.
I grew up being made fun of. I was the chubby nerdy kid with glasses and a cute dimpled smile. People made fun of me for the way I spoke and most of the times because I played no sports and pretty much sucked at every physical activity I tried. Which brings me to one of the most interesting times of my life. after coming out of the closet and checking out every gay club in town I noticed that men really didn’t look at me the way I looked at them. I was once again the chubby, nerdy kid with a dimpled smile. I was shocked to see that to some I even seemed repulsive.
I’m not gonna sugar coat it for anyone. Gay men are bitches... gay men are mean lean plastic ken dolls ready to cut anyone with sharp words. I found myself in the middle of a world I did not understand. A marvelous plastic world I desperately wanted to belong to. I remember spending the little money I had every weekend on an outfit I would never wear to the same spot twice. I remember little by little becoming a little more concerned about the way I looked rather than school or my passion for art.
The swan... I remember planning everything along one of my closest friends and my cousin.(Albert) the goal was to slim down and drastically change my image. from style of clothing to hairstyle to even certain mannerisms. I looked for days at pictures online of famous actors, singers and even sports figures but no one quite fit the image I wanted to portray. I was never daring enough to cut my hair, pierce my ears, get a tattoo, wear baggy clothing or even tight clothing. I was a deteriorated blank canvas forgotten in a corner.
I found my inspiration one day as I looked online. to this day I can’t recall how exactly I came across the image of a major Canadian R&B singer. His style was exactly what I had in mind. The cute hispanic bad boy with a baby face. As time went by I dropped weight by methods a little more than unorthodox. My clothes changed from simple T-shirts and jeans to elaborate urban inspired outfits. Never replicated. only inspired by Danny Fernandes.
The day the hair came off... If you look at a picture of me before and after you could tell the major difference in my looks. sometimes I look in the mirror and astounded remember how much I have changed. I always had a messy hairstyle that to me seemed as fashionable as my minimal concept of personal image. I had what i came to call a bad attempt to a faux-hawk.
the barbershop in town most popular among men according to yelp was only a few miles away from my cousins house and the courage in me to drastically change only led me to 20 minutes of a clipper running over my head. I had taken down 2 inches of hair down to 1/4th of an inch. I had never had hair that short before.
that night my friends and cousins went out to the same club where I had kissed that man. I looked good. A few pounds over now that I look at pictures but none the less good. I was finally shinny. Hard. Finally plastic. I remember the faces that once looked at me with a sense of repugnance and now they curiously stared at the new fresh meat in the club. I have forgotten now what was exactly what I wanted to accomplish other than maybe a guy ask me out on a date. everyone stared and smiled but none were daring enough to approach me and ask for my number. Until alone, I walked out to the patio and a cute, tall, dark and handsome guy said hi. I had done it. I had actually caught someones attention. I loved it. Suddenly the hunger for acceptance was satisfied and the thirst for attention quenched.
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