Out Of Line

January Men's Room

“Where do you want your sideburns?” the hairstylist asked as she touched my temple. “Here?”

“Looks about right,” I said.

She took the clippers to what little sideburns I possess. She trimmed and then moved to the other side. Suddenly she stopped, and, while I watched in the mirror, she stuck her index fingers at the edge of my sideburns, checking the level.

They weren’t level.

“Hmm,” she said. “Looks like one ear is lower.”

“Sideburn, you mean. One sideburn is lower.”

“True,” she said. “Because one ear is lower.”

“The ears? My ears are too low?”

“Just one ear,” she said. “And it’s only a little low. Don’t worry – lots of people have it.”

It? I thought. It what? Having one ear lower than the other – is that common? Is it a disease or a birth defect or an outgrowth of aging? Does it have a name, like Asymmetrical Ear Syndrome? Can AES be cured?

The very next day, I stopped by the optometrist’s office to have my wobbly glasses adjusted. The technician struggled to set things straight, wrestling so hard with the slender frames that I thought she might snap them. I tried the glasses on, but still they sat crooked – one side zigged, but the other zagged. If you think of my face as a map of the United States, you’ll see the left arm of the glasses resting up in Seattle, while the other droops to Miami.

“It’s not a big deal,” the optician tech said.

“Give it to me straight,” I said. “One ear is lower than the other, isn’t it?”

“Don’t worry,” she replied. “Lots of people have it.”

I can translate personal reassurance. When she and the stylist said, “Don’t worry,” they meant, “You belong in the carnival, freak boy.”

This got me wondering about the rest of my body. If my ears stood out of line, what other parts did, too? I’ve long suspected that my right foot is bigger than my left. And upon close inspection, I see that my left thumb does look bulkier than the right one. Plus, is that a lazy eye on the same side as my lazy ear?

Hang on. I need to check my nipples. Be right back.

***

You don’t want to know.

***

All of a sudden, it seems I’m turning into a Picasso painting, a chaotic Cubist caricature called Man in Funhouse Mirror. Or perhaps I’ve been one all along, and I’m just now learning the misaligned, unsightly truth.

What can I do about all this? Surgery would cost a fortune.

You might suggest that I simply ignore it all – that I accept my flaws as trademarks of individualism, badges of a normal life, and that I live in peaceful self-security.

To that, I say this: Come on. Be reasonable.

I mean, look at me – my sideburns are a mess.

Tim Bass is coordinator of UNCW’s bachelor of fine arts program in creative writing.

To view more of illustrator Mark Weber's work, go to www.markweberart.blogspot.com.