while i'm not vain nor especially superficial, i am still concerned about my appearance, and opening my door to an imperious knock without a shirt is just an instant in a string of instants in which i am self-conscious about my body.
what's funny in a cynical sarcastic way, to me, is this: I am a grown man about to be thirty, not some teenage girl, like the stereotype is. Which shows me two things: the stereotype about being self-conscious is not exlcusive to women; and that i am human and care about both my body and other people's opinions. Perhaps other people's opinions too much, but hey, what can you do?
Dinner was good. I will have some sort of snack later on, because I didn't eat much. Had chocolate milk as recovery from my run, and then had a can of tuna and an orange. All while hydrating.