Dear Armpit (and Pit-Crew), what about Jawbumps?

As a writer, I’m always drawn to the unexpected. On a recent morning, not quite awake and amongst the living yet, I scanned the updates. I was bolted awake by the headline:

           ***“Dear LinkedIn: Is My Armpit Bad For Business?”***

Writer and Pilgrim Rebecca Brockway’s post about whether or not she should digitally alter the crease of pit flesh in her profile photo propelled me straight back to the days of double X. An era when Jolt soda, masses of pastry, and a line-up of Fine Young Cannibals signaled the day had begun. A time of joy, when the only way to alter a photo was to rip it in half. I recalled the days when my fellow Air Force Honor Guard buds and I were preparing for a sweltering morning spinning M-1 rifles and practicing  routines. Our end-of- training breaks were a crescendo of maniacal laughter and unspeakable insults, fueled by coma-inducing sugar consumption and jet-engine caffeine. The existing photographic evidence of days long past depict flying limbs and unidentified hazy faces captured beautifully on instant-camera film. The good times rolled…poorly shot pictures and crappy film, the 80’s version of Photo Shop. Nary a flaw to be seen. 

Perfection! Pit-creases, facial bumps, and stray chin hairs existed only in the sights of those 234 pound, long-barreled lenses seen nowhere but in the hills of Hollywood.

But here we are now, in the new age of mega pixels, cell-phone cameras and HDTV. When I read Rebecca’s post, I anxiously fretted considering my own LinkedIn profile photo --and  the creases, lumps or liver spots that might be bad for business. I snapped to attention. I checked for pit creases. There were none that I could see; but who knows? I ran my fingers over the Neuro-fibromas on my jaw line. Not too photogenic, but I live with these benign patches of weird skin… and no one has ever asked me to photo shop the little beasts...yet. I went back a few times to evaluate the Pilgrim’s pit-crease, once with cheater glasses, and then with a magnifying glass and cheaters. Hmmm. Personally, I thought she looked fabulous, so when she asked her readers to weigh-in on the sweaty problem at hand, I tapped out my thoughts.

Ms. Brockway responded: 

“… something wonderfully strange has happened to me as I've aged: I've culled my strength - my personality - and it has become my "smarts." I've lovingly cared for my body, and it has loved me back. At age fifty-eight, I imagine myself "pulling away from the pack."”.

I paused for a long moment to think about that statement and her phrase;

      “At age fifty-eight, I imagine myself "pulling away from the pack”.".

She graciously refuted the increasing pressure to Photo Shop her Profile Picture ‘pit crease’, openly stated her age, and with the gritty moxie of a Wolverine, pulled away from the pack to howl at her own moon.  

That resonated with me. I had the sudden urge to hunt her down and insist she become my BFF.

Some days later, I read Rebecca’s follow-up post. Which was signed “Rebecca “Armpit” Brockway”. I followed the commentary threads on both posts and had some laugh-my-pits-off moments. 

                            ***                      BUT, the question loomed.           ***

                                       Is her High-Def armpit Bad For Business?

Apparently not. Loads of people were pro-crease. Rebecca's newly formed Pit-Crew was in full-on fan-frenzy. Guess I wasn’t the only one to feel the love for “Armpit”. 

Closer to home, I inspected my face in full-on daylight, then to really get serious, turned on the dreaded (and banned in my home) fluorescent light. Egad, Sherlock. My own profile photo was taken from a nice fuzzy distance. Since it's about a year old, I recently decided to change it. That is, until I realized I might be asking for trouble like this.

Would my neck and jaw line, dappled with fibromas, crush  my        professional image and ruin my life? 

I found myself concerned. I imagined jumping into the air and hoping t0 land on her side, sliding away from the pack of the image-obsessed. If only I was as bold as Armpit. After all, I had recently flown into the airspace of L. (L is the new XXXXIX. Or as I like to say, 29 years with 21 years experience) I wondered if the Romans chose “L” to represent 50 because it’s a 90-degree angle, no curves in sight. An abrupt directional change, the kind that comes with weird creases and bumps of growth, the telltale signs of having lived for a few XXX’s. The days of Polaroids and low-definition: O-V-E-R. So were the days when I didn't care about lighting, angle, or distance. 

Instead of stalking Rebecca and her pit, I was inspired to peal out and hang a tight east-west corner toward the land where "Armpit" Brockway lived; that elusive and freeing island of the  'experienced and mature', which is beauty in it's best form. Goodbye, youth; hello intelligence, humor, and not taking everything so damned seriously. 

                              HD, pit-creases, and facial bumps be damned. 

Rebecca is a lovely and refreshing writer, author and businesswoman. She embraces her strength, cares for herself, grows her talent. She took what might have been an untold story-- one that may have caused another person to have been offended, or who might have accepted the offer to alter what need not be "fixed",  and made it funny and thoughtful. She didn’t hide her age or blur it with a skin-colored tech-crayon. Her now-famous Pit-crease, I'd say, is fantastic for business;  there's Pit-Crew, Pit-Sistahs, and Armpit fans galore. 

So, Rebecca “Armpit” Brockway, you rock your bad pit-crease self! Photoshop free. I’ll be rocking my weird facial bumps, and if I receive requests to alter my Profile picture, I’ll sweetly decline and let them know I’m too busy; call me when I’m LXXXXIX. 

Yours truly,

Jawbumps