So I've gotten pretty Jacked. Huge. My posture and demeanor have changed drastically. I'm still a good guy inside, but I'm no longer 'nice' and feel no need to demonstrate that to anyone.

I'm reassured by my kids, who know me and 'get' my humour. I'll overlpay an aggressive tone or posture and they giggle knowing the playful nature.

My teenaged daughter made mention the other day, how big and mean looking I appeared when compared to the other parents at a community social function we attended for the kids. I brushed it off as simply being healthier looking because I lift and run, plus the coffee cups were crazy small, making me look disproportionately large. She then argued that like "mom's resting Birch face" I always have a heavy furled brow. She was being tongue in cheek, so I simply shrugged.

This struck me however. I began to focus on my external expressions and behaviors. I agree, I'm not so pressed to worry about how others feel, nor how they judge me. At the same time, I need to be approachable. I am still a fun guy. Quite charming once people open up to me. But it's true. I smile less. I don't give much of myself out to others until they've qualified themselves first.

Then last night, the wife suggested that I was brooding. That I was a "real hoot". I poked at her later, and had her giggling with a snack on the ass. But it was another comment that chipped at my paint.

Now I know that for friends and relatives who know me, they will forever have the image of old blue-me from the past. And this is my wife and teenaged daughter that are testing my frame. But there is truth in jest.

How do i calibrate this? Should I be trying to be more pleasant for their sake, or is it all blue-world bullshit programming, trying to drag me back to the bottom of the bucket.

I like me. I like being that Big bastard that the soccer mom's watch as he shadows over their husbands. I mean, I threw both kids over my shoulders last night, and squatted them just for shits and giggles. They were giggling, but were pushed to absolute hysterics when my pants tore on the third way down. Even I let out a good laugh. And that's just it. I love how I can startle an entire room when I'm hit with something funny and my gutteral laugh bounces off the walls for even me to hear. I don't care if it's obnoxious. I'm not here for them... They're all in here for me.

So I don't quite 'don't give a fuck' enough yet. But I don't necessarily want to become a total dick. Then again, I love it when the little woman calls me that from time to time.