Man in the mirror

I hate watching myself on video. In any recording I don't recognize the man I see and know from the mirror.  I guess it's true that a camera adds ten pounds. My face is rounder and I look heavier. There's a strange intensity in it that make it seem strained when I speak. I look angry or sad, especially when I'm tired or nervous. What's wrong with my eyes? My voice sounds different than I hear it in head. I like to think it's just one of those things I take after my mother, you can barely recognize her on the phone. Whose facial expressions are these? My spasticity is far more visible that I give it credit for every day. I look swollen, I really want go back and correct my posture and how could I leave the house with that hair. And yet, pushing for disability causes requires me to be public to an extent and come to terms with the fact that I how I see myself and how  others see me may be completely different things. Being public requires me to come to terms with how I come across. I guess we all think of ourselves as smart or fun or articulate or attractive to a degree. I may have a disability, but in my mind I see myself as everybody else. When I was younger, this external, unbiased look felt difficult to accept. Now I just say to myself: This is me. I can't do anything about it and I don't have the time or the energy to deal with silly small issues. For a few days journalism students were following me around Gainesville and did a swell job chronicling my life story. And I could spend days picking apart what I don't like about my look or I can focus on the message and ways I want to help the disability community. Sometimes we need to get over ourselves