Every man will face his own “What the hell am I doing?” moments.
Some, as they question their intelligence and purpose for existence. While they adjust the ornate belt on their white Elvis jumpsuit. While they fight the terror that the suit’s fit reveals more than the average passerby or coworker ought to know.
This was me, on Halloween, a few short years ago.
I stood in profile in the full-length mirror in the men’s room for my watershed moment. Should I switch from The King to The Guy Who Should Have Worn Something More Substantial Under His Costume?