Under the white glow of the brightly lit bathroom, there was the great I Am. An odd position for a man to achieve: one leg upon the counter, the other on the ground, one arm pressed against the wall holding my balance, the other positioning a mirror underneath my scrotum. Oh yes, completely naked of course. Dear God, you might say, why on earth would I do such a thing? Of course I have a lovely, dare I say pert ballsack, but to look at it with such intense recognition of detail? Oh, I do so wish that the paranoid bodily analysis ended with my lovely balls. I wish it were a mere scratch from a Taiwanese girl's ornate finger rings or a slight ice burn to the goodie bag from some equally freaky French socialite but no, no it was not. The inspection stretched far and wide, the entire landscape