Yesterday evening I confirmed the mirror is a much bigger asshole than I had originally thought. Went to the tailor to pick up my suit and was pleased to see the alterations were perfect and it looked pretty damn good on me.
But in the midst of my joy the mean spirited mirror made a point to highlight my hair or lack thereof. Yeah, it is true the great and mighty melon that rests upon shoulders decided it needs more sunshine and has been actively making more space.
I can’t explain why it would betray me this way but I suppose I should be used to it because the mighty metabolism that I once enjoyed left a while back and hasn’t come home.
One day I am going to catch that jackass and stuff him back inside so that I can return to the days of not caring if I ate 5 hamburgers or just one. Going to lock that sucker up and eat an entire pizza by myself and then finish off a gallon of ice cream.
A Helpful Safety Tip
Should you happen to be hanging out with me during the time when I recover that metabolism you will witness feats of strength in eating that will put the dude who ate 71 hot dogs to shame.
Feats of Strength that have enabled me to never lose at Festivus.
But I must share that I am lactose intolerant. I say this not to cross the line of TMI but to protect you because all that dairy is likely to have a very nasty impact and it may come to pass that you will not want to be within a mile of any bathroom I defile that day.
Some of you may recall the Chicken Vindaloo story but if you don’t suffice it to say that flames just aren’t supposed to be shooting out of there and your priest cannot save you from that satanic eruption. There isn’t enough holy water in the world.
Thinking about it reminds me of a story I once heard from a guy who was a wrestler. He was trying to make weight for a match and thought that a self inflicted colonic would do the trick.
I can’t tell you much about what happened to him because the conversation took place in the steam room at my old gym. What I do remember is that most of us were sitting on towels and he was dressed in sweats.
Can’t say how the conversation started but I remember him telling me about his plan and then mentioning that supermodels do the same thing.
Now I know women have to answer the same call to nature as men but did he have to try to ruin my image of supermodels. Hope that sick bastard crapped himself on the mat. 😉
Things I’ll Do In The Name Of Vanity
I told the Shmata Queen that there are things I will do in the name of vanity and things that I won’t. Â My hair isn’t going to be contingent upon taking pills.
She didn’t complain about it but I suspect that crazy broad hopes I am joking when I say one day I will shave my head. I am serious about it.
If enough hair decides to leave me I will take a razor to the rest and join the Brotherhood of Bald Men.
What I will do is commit to and execute a plan to improve my diet and exercise more, especially if I am going to hang out with Mr. Clean, dude is buff and I won’t let him show me up.
And because of vanity and an elephant like memory I’ll do it so that I can walk up to the asshole mirror and show off the six pack I’ll be sporting.
That’ll teach that nasty creature that I am a man of my word. Of course if for some reason it doesn’t happen I’ll just pull the old baseball bat out of the trunk and show the mirror that I am not just a man of my word but action too.
Oh the humanity.
My husband was a man of his word. When his hair decide to leave he took it upon his own and shaved it all off. He wanted to be the man and show hair who is boss, and that is what he did. He became a more confident man after that. I love him no matter what though.