Not only was I blessed with the wonderful gift of obesity, but I was also blessed with the gift of hair. No, not hair on my head, because I’m balding like a newborn baby- but blessed with an obscene amount of body hair. I’m like some monster that you see on Guinness World of Records in the “World’s Most Hairiest” Category. Seriously, if it was possible to donate arm hair to locks of love, I definitely would get in on that. Why wouldn’t I want to share the wealth? My eyebrows are a completely different story. They grow fast like they’re running away from my face. The ladies that thread them always have to fight about who does me because it takes four times the time and an entire roll of thread. I always leave there with a beard because there’s no room for the eyebrow hair on the floor that it falls all over my face, and I begin to look like my Middle Eastern biological father. Aside from my bushy eyebrows, and hairy arms, the worst thing is the fact that I need to wear moomoo skirts and pregnancy dresses all summer because it’s hard to keep up with my eight-foot-long stubbly limbs. If you’re grossed out by body hair, please stop reading here, because this is about to get real. First of all, I’m a giant, and I’m lazy, and cropping the corn fields growing on my legs daily is a lot of work. Sometimes I feel like I would be better off not trimming my cactus legs and just deal with Donald calling me “Fluffy Bottom” for the rest of my life. True story, my boyfriend calls me fluffy bottom when my legs feel like cactus plants. Come to think of it, why is it okay for boys to be un-groomed and walk around like gorillas all day? How did men get that privilege.
I guess it’s fine though, when I get the energy to tackle my stilts, I love the feeling, I just won’t be getting to that tonight…or tomorrow!