GQ

I've realized that I've recently let myself go. Not that I've had a complete grip on myself. I mean after all I still only wear Ralph Lauren and J. Crew because the colors are easily mixed and matched. I believe that I still need some sort of dress code, like the garanimals stuff they use to have--match the animals on the tags. I'm not that fashion able. Certainly not GQ material as far as my wardrobe goes.
However, since I've been studying in Illinois, I've gained so much weight. This is due to the fact that dinner usually consists of Chili-Cheese Fritos and a Mountain Dew (diet of course, to somehow undo the many calories of the Fritos). Not only have I gained weight, I think I forgot how to comb my hair--so I had most of it chopped off. Worst of all, my nose hair has grown to unreasonable lengths. They've grown so much that they've taken on personalties of their own, can even wave "bye-bye". This is the most disheartening part--there is some gray ones mixed in there.
So when I arrived in Charleston, West Virginia on July 5th, I was finally able to assess the damage that non-caring has done. I could tell by the way family and friends gave me that look, like "it's nice seeing you, but what the hell happened along the way". And when I looked in the mirror of my childhood bedroom, I was shocked to see something resembling an Oompa Loompa that now wears depends underwear. I've aged!!!!
I've since taken out the hedge trimmers, facial wash and started eating wheat and lettuce again. I've gotten some whitener things for my teeth (which were stained by coffee--thanks to Bradley Jones and Sissy Varghese chat sessions). Give me about a month to rectify what damage was done. I think by then I'll again look like a young Oompa Loompa.