Tales From an Asian Man

My life right now seems to be a little out of control. First of all, I don't function very well when I am sleep deprived. I really admire those that can be totally functional on say, five hours of sleep. Oh no, not I. I need AT LEAST eight hours, and if I can get ten then I am very superb in my daily functioning.

Anyways, this weekend I was in Boston for a regatta called the Head of the Charles. It's straight up crazy big, and it is definitely not the norm as far as regattas go. They actually have sponsors. And big sponsors at that, such as Dunkin' Donuts and Nautica.

I think that this was my last regatta, and I actually got a little sad. Am I going to miss carrying boxes of t-shirts back and forth to a tent in the 40 degree air? Probably not. Am I going to miss the numb feeling in my feet, wearing two pairs of pants, and my chapped face from the icy cold breeze blowing through the big white tent where I spend 12 hours of my day? Um, no. Am I going to miss people asking me what size t-shirt I wear and when I say, "medium" they say, "Really?!?!" all incredulous-like and make me feel like a big fat fatty fat? No way jose.

Which leads me to the troll-like feeling I get at almost every regatta I go to. Most people know this story by now, because it seems to be all I bitch about when I get back from these things. But, there is just something about being at regattas that bring at the ugliest in me. Let me rephrase that, I not only look ugly but feel ugly. Like a troll. Troll-like.

My first troll-like experience happened around 2003 in the Northwest region. I was with a rather beautiful, blonde, leggy coworker who I think has never had a pimple in her life. She was just one of those people that always has a good hair day, and looks good wearing a huge sweatshirt and dirty pants. Then there was me, who after getting my hair cut super short (remember that? It was really cute at first, really) it was going through the "growing out" stages and I couldn't even pull it back into a ponytail. It felt like a flat out mullet, and I thought everyone was staring at my ugly mullet. I also felt very squat next to my statuesque friend. She seemed to glide around the tent, while I only scurried back and forth. People would come up to the tent and not even look at me. No eye contact. I had to pretty much get right in their faces. That was my first feeling of being a troll.

Later on at different regattas, I had varying degrees of trollness, but nothing as bad as that first one. I realized that in the summer I was able to hide my trollness under a nice tan, which does help. Also, when my hair was sufficiently grown out I was able to put in a ponytail. Ponytails and tans were just a few of my troll defense mechanisms.

However, at the Head of the Charles this past weekend, I didn't feel like a troll. My face was really chapped from the cold air, and I had huge wrinkles under my puffy eyes. I don't know why I thought this, but I looked in the mirror and thought that I really could see the resemblance of my dad. I looked like an Asian man. Not that it is a bad thing, or even that my dad really looks Asian, but I guess when you mix me and my dad together what you get is an Asian man. Why couldn't I resemble a woman? I don't know. I think that the scariest thing of all is that I totally resigned to the fact that I looked like a man. I was thinking, "Alright. So be it. Now I will have to rely on my personality." That is the kind of crazy-talk that goes through my head. What is the matter with me?

So, I am back home now, and I have a few more hours of sleep under my belt. I am feeling better about myself, and the Asian man has seemed to fade from my face. Wearing pink sweaters and mascara also does not hurt. I am hoping that I will get back to normal soon.