Busted Sea Donkey

It's true... I'm getting older and steadily uglier. But the wild dichotomy between the following two photos is insane.

First, behold this shot of me recording vocals with Soccer Team. This happened just today.
It's a pretty good picture. 
I watched Melissa attempt to take this photo out of my periphery, and she had to take like a dozen shots before she got one that didn't feature my gut in any sort of prominence. But the photo is perfectly fine. In fact, it's a pretty interesting shot of the door in the background, and as art, I'm okay with that.

The ol' fisheye ain't helping matters here.

Then, Chris posted new shots of the Sweathogs skating today, and... well ... I guess I'll just let the photo speak for itself... 
It looks like 40 is hittin' this dude HARD.
More sea-donkey than man, really.

Johnny No-Mates: the Loneliest Skater

Here's some more how-to-be your-own-best-friend stuff.
Enjoy.

Fly Out

Photo by C. Grady, y'all.

All knees.
No style.

Legs

PADS. The knees featured above are not my knees. They're Chris's. But he's got the right idea. I'd like to wear the ol' pads more often ('cause I'm destroying my pants ... and I suppose my knees, too), but when it's 88˚ like it was this past Tuesday, rocking knee pads over jeans gets pretty itchy, sweaty, and uncomfortable.
So this is fair warning:
I may be rockin' some shorts soon.
I haven't worn shorts in years. I hate them. I prefer my gams to be covered... protected by fabric. And let's face it, the world's better off not seeing my bare legs.
But I think it's time. It certainly won't be pretty.