The Strangeness Of Seeing Ourselves

In seventh grade, my history teacher explained a fun game we could play in the effort to kill time during our middle school retreat. It is a simple game. All you need is a dark sky, yourself, and a friend. Once you have all of those components, you step outside and stare at each other’s faces. Suddenly, because it is dark out, it will look like your friend is headless. And that’s the game. I don't really know the science behind it. When I played this game for the first time, I could not believe what my eyes saw and how their 20/20 vision fooled me. I have not tried to play this game since seventh grade, but I still stand by the game’s core takeaway. When you stare at something familiar long enough, like a head, it begins to look quite strange.

My body has a way of hypnotizing me.

I stare at it a lot. In New York City, reflection is a free transaction. Sunglass shades are everywhere. In a sea of traffic, car windows stand before you just ready to be eyed. And if nothing is at your disposal, you can take out your iphone and open up the camera app. Though, perhaps my favorite are the abandoned windows. These are wonderful objects for gazing. I like them because their resemblance to a full-length mirror is almost uncanny.

I gave the abandoned window looksey a test the other day. On the corner of 3rd street and avenue b, there is the trace of what once was a deli. Now, it is nothing but a closed-up corner shop with three large exposed windows. I let my mind wander on the possibilities of what this space might become. It would make for a perfect bar. But aren’t there already enough bars? Who might claim it next will likely have no resemblance to who has felt at home in the space before. I become reminded of one of my favorite songs by Courtney Barnett. In her hit “Depreston" she sings, If you've got a spare half a million, You could knock it down and start rebuilding. In the name of beautification and improvement, history and heritage often fall by the wayside because money talks.

Right now, there is nothing to see but myself. It is Thursday night, my favorite day of the week, and I was in my head about what I had put on my body. Though I spent almost an hour “fapitzing” as my New York City born and bred Jewish grandma likes to say, I still wondered, “How do I actually look?” I walked up the corner window. I got as close to it as possible. I stained the mirror with my breath. I gazed down at my feet. I was wearing black loafers, but to make it out of the house on time I’d forgotten to put on socks. I will survive, I tell myself. I think of the impending blisters that will welcome me sockless.

I took a risk tonight. I put on sheer black-lace pants, fully exposing myself in my underwear. See-through pants, or rather see-through anything, is very on trend, but could I pull this off? I purchased these pants because I watched an influencer’s TikTok. She wore the famous Batsheva Black Lace Ruffle Pants. On her, they looked classy. To obtain confirmation in the name of reflection, I spun around in front of the window. I saw how my butt, in these pants, resembled the shape of the heart. I like hearts. Thanks to the window, I felt better about everything.

I could go on with my night. This is mine. I am not a narcissist, but in some moments, staring at myself really does help me love my body.

But I know that even looks are not enough. Just like cities, it is easy to get lost in their unknown. About a month ago, I found myself on a mysterious path. For two days, my left nipple remained erect. Whatever I did, it would not shrink down. I tried to warm it up by caressing my nipple. I put a hot compress on it. I did a lot of things. But nothing worked. Stressed and at a loss for what to do next, I typed in “left nipple staying erect” into google. I read a Healthline article titled I am Not Cold, So Why Are My Nipples Hard?. I skipped past the cutesy introduction to find the section named “Is this Normal?” I learned nipples get hard for a variety of reasons and often there is no cause for concern, but if it persists for a couple of days seeing a doctor is recommended because there could be an underlying condition.

I left the article feeling more uneducated about the state of my nipple. I phoned my doctor. His office assistant answered the phone. “Dr. Liu is seeing someone right now, but he will call you back at his first chance.”

Of course he phoned me when I was about to hop on the Subway. In the middle of the first avenue station, with sweat dripping down my face because the station is almost 104 degrees, I screamed out the words “My nipple has been erect for three days!” A sea of people in long-shorts and studded belts walked past me. It took a while for my doctor to hear me over the sound of the incoming train and all its ruckus. “There is an uptown train.” But, once he heard me he told me to keep putting on a warm compress every night. “Really, there is no cause for concern. Your stress is probably making it persist as well.” I could have told myself this. But I have a hard time not getting caught up in why my body does what it does.

I hung up and walked onto the train. There was a seat calling my name and I sat right down. For two stops, I stared at myself through the Subway car window. Then at West 4th, a woman walked onto the train blocking my reflection to sit down. She was older. She was wearing those Celine sunglasses that everyone wants and that Amazon has ripped off. Her hair was loosely pulled back and her top was a form-fitting plunging v-neck that could likely be sold at Lara Koleji. The shirt celebrated her wrinkles and I thought she must be wise. She was not looking at anything. Has her age made her unencumbered by the idea of her reflection? I would love to look like her one day. She catches me staring at her and in return awards me a soft smile.

Thank god for the people that rid you from watching yourself. Thank god I can watch New York and ride in all its style.