How would you describe yourself to someone who can’t see you?

VISUALISE HENRY

In life, I have often imagined people with whom I’ve communicated but have not seen to be substantially different from how they appear when vision takes over.

I have imagined people to be short, but they are tall. I have supposed people to be fat, but they are thin. I had imagined men to be follicularly enhanced with full heads of hair but discovered them to be follicular challenged with a bit of hair when my eyes happened upon them. And so it goes with imagined and actual outcomes being a confirmation or possibly a disappointment of how one seems to be and how they are when seen in the person.

If describing oneself to another is the only option, the person giving the self-description might be tempted to indulge in a little fantasy. That would not be wise for in the end descriptive truth may be found to be a lie.

So here goes:

I used to be thin but now am unfortunately rather fat.

I like to wear casual clothes and you will find me in shorts, a T-shirt, and wearing socks and sneakers. I use toggles rather than laces in my sneakers.

I have a full head of hair although it is thinning a little but that is the dimension of the strands rather than the loss of the crop.

My beard has been part of my facial countenance since 1975.

My legs and arms are pockmarked with indentations created by the removal of various cancers over time.

Whenever I go into the sun, sunglasses are part of my dress. Without them, I squint and wince my eyes.

I have a benign cyst on the right-hand side of my nose, a cyst with which I was born. Every so often I have to cut or at least shave the two or three long hairs that grow enthusiastically from its surface.

I have a fairly deep voice and if you can’t see me you may hear me at times because I’m a habitual singer, singing in shops, when driving, when walking, when gardening, when doing dishes, when undertaking washing and any other housework, and even when I’m in the toilet.