Lobes
On the way home tonight, I walked behind someone who had made the unfortunate decision to pierce his ears with something the diameter of a beer can. To accentuate the droopy state of his lobes, he wore metal earrings which were about the size of a stack of five quarters. Similar in weight too, by the looks of things.
As I followed his swaying earlobes, I was forced to think about my reaction which, to be honest, wasn't particularly appreciative. Why should it be so upsetting? All I could think about was how he would look at 60 and all the jobs he wouldn't get. But more than anything, all I could think was: how gross. But why would three inch long bifurcated dangling earlobes be so upsetting? There's nothing inherently more aestetically pleasing about an intact, firm earlobe surely.
I hate it when moments like this make it clear just how good a job society does of brainwashing you to the point that your visceral reactions are merely a manifestation of what you've been told, predominantly, by your parents. Damn it. I want my own visceral reactions back.
As I followed his swaying earlobes, I was forced to think about my reaction which, to be honest, wasn't particularly appreciative. Why should it be so upsetting? All I could think about was how he would look at 60 and all the jobs he wouldn't get. But more than anything, all I could think was: how gross. But why would three inch long bifurcated dangling earlobes be so upsetting? There's nothing inherently more aestetically pleasing about an intact, firm earlobe surely.
I hate it when moments like this make it clear just how good a job society does of brainwashing you to the point that your visceral reactions are merely a manifestation of what you've been told, predominantly, by your parents. Damn it. I want my own visceral reactions back.