Running the Race of Life

Every day, I look in the mirror and see a mask of freckles. They even dot all over my shoulders and down onto my back. I’ve thought about getting Chicago laser removal treatments to clear up at least some of it. I’m 36 years old for crying out loud. People look like me like I’m a 14 year old who’s gotten too much sun. I’ve always looked this way, but when I was younger I was younger. It didn’t matter. But now I’m a man and I know that I’m a man. I don’t want to be playing connect the dots with all of these freckles and drawing maps of various regions of the American Southwest on my shoulders. Do you have any idea how annoying it is to walk into a room and have someone say, ‘Hey, you must be Irish!’ and have this happen again and again and again. In every room I walk into. As you can imagine, Saint Patrick’s Day is an utter abominable nightmare for me. I see all those Irish flags waving and everyone’s outside, marching around, proudly wearing their freckles and expecting me to dress up like an overgrown leprechaun. Seriously, how much am I supposed to take?