If I’m going to be the in the Divergent world, I’d be in Abnegation.
Not really because I’m selfless. Well, I can be, sometimes – but not always. I’m a stiff. I don’t consider mirrors a necessity. I can look at them once a day and I’ll be okay. I am repulsive to vanity. I am not that confident when it comes to how I look. That’s why:
That would be when it comes to personal style and grooming.
I’m a shirts and jeans guy. I can’t recall how many times I’ve created a blog entry on how I don’t particularly care how I look. Truthfully, I was in the leadership team of my previous organization yet I look like I can be a member of the facilities team. I’d pull a checked shirt and match it with my stripes shorts, and my wife would marvel at how devil-may-care I’d strike a pose even when I violated a mortal sin in the design world.
So yeah, starting a couple of weeks ago, I’ve entrusted to my wife’s style-meticulous eyes the kind of shirts I should choose, the style of jeans that fit my weight class, the type of haircut I should sport – the whole nine yards!
So far, so good. Her taking over has only made me look better and I can’t really complain. Hey, that doesn’t mean it makes me less of a man taking personal style advice from my better half. Let’s just say she’s better at that. And I’m eternally a washout in this sphere.