November 23rd, 2004
I have one of those bathroom medicine cabinets that allows you to open it up and use that and the front mirror to get a full view of your entire head. I mean, you can see your sideburns, the line of your hair on your neck, your ears — you get the ultimate 3-D view of your skull.
I am extremely distraught that I felt the need to look.
Because while looking at the watermelon that IS my head, I came to the conclusion that indeed my head is the biggest head I have ever seen in all my years on the face of the earth. I mean, I used to think the kid who played Rocky in M.A.S.K. with that huge deformed head had it really bad until I saw my head in the mirror. At least Rocky (played by Eric Stolz and mothered by Cher) had a deformed head that matched his body. Me? I’ve got a head the size of a huge Thanksgiving Day turkey on top of a tiny, skinny frame of a body.
I didn’t tell anyone, until now, that I felt my head was this huge.
Instead, I’d go around asking people to look at my digital pictures and see if anything looked out of the ordinary. I’d stand in front of cardboard cut-outs of other well-known celebrities to see if people noticed the skullular inconsistencies. I would lay my head on people’s laps to see if the weight put too much pressure on their abdomen, causing them to uncontrollably urinate in their pants.
In all of the above situations, except for the urination thing, no one noticed the fact that my head was extremely huge and largely abnormal for a man of my age, stature and weight. I immediately went to see my doctor to ask him about my head. The conversation proves that no one wants to admit to me my head is huge for fear of causing great distress:
Me: Is my head huge, Doc?
Doctor: Your head is perfect, Paul.
Me: No, really. Look at it. It’s way too big for my body.
Doctor: You’ve got a very symmetrical looking head, Paul.
Me: Symmetrically big, sure. But too big for my body, right?
Doctor: People with bigger skulls were known to be smarter in the olden times.
Me: So, you’re saying I have a big skull, then?
Doctor: No, Paul. I’m saying that you’re smart.
I have asked my parents if they thought my skull was too big and their responses have ranged between asking me if my boots are “popular” and if my jeans “are supposed to hang low like that” instead of addressing the head issue. Sure, because I can change my shoes and my jeans but I cannot change the size of my blimp-like noggin.
I have asked my friends if they think my body looks skinny compared to my head and they have simply responded that I shouldn’t get so obsessed about working out and that I should be satisfied with my body type.
Again, everyone disregards or ignores the size of my head.
Well, my medicine cabinet mirror in conjunction with my front bathroom mirror has not. It has, in one swift swing of an open medicine cabinet door revealed the honest truth to my ears, my mouth, my nose and my chin. I have the hugest head out of anyone I have seen.
No wonder hats looks so small. No wonder I can’t find a pair of glasses that look cool. No wonder I always wake up in the middle of the night with my head OFF the pillow. No wonder headrests in cars just hit my neck. No wonder when I sing I hear echoing.
No wonder, no wonder, no wonder.