“Happy New Year!” That’s what they say anyway but it’s the same shit just different flies. People don’t change, events change. What has really changed about them? Nothing, as far as I can tell.
People still act like retarded zombies.
Does a shaved head always mean you have Cancer? Apparently it does. I assure you, my tits are in tact. They are quite stellar.
Living your life on your own terms doesn’t mean you have somehow changed the way people think, or view the world. Mostly, they react like programmed robots.
A woman with a shaved head means, she must have cancer. Breast Cancer. I have a nice rack, it doesn’t mean I’ve had a boob job. I’m 100% all woman. Though, I imagine it a compliment at my age. I’ll be 39 in two days, and the girls are still sitting at attention. Pretty impressive, I suppose…
Get a grip people. Women have been removing the hair from their heads voluntarily for thousands of years. You’d think in the 21st century it wouldn’t make you bat an eyelash, but it still does. I’m constantly checking my proverbial watch for the century. Last time I checked, Corseting was an option, no longer a requirement, often times it’s even a kink. I’m reminded of that 65 year old woman with a waistline the circumference of a CD. Amazing! In our modern society oddities like that even make the Guinness Book of World Records. What an accomplishment! *snark*
You people are a bunch of weirdos, and they say I’m strange! At best I’m eccentric, some would say neurotic but you know what? I’m the most sane and normal person I know. People around me are the nut bags!!!
When you gather to ring in the New Year, you’ll bump into old acquaintances and those you haven’t seen you in a while. The sympathetic stares, the whispering in the back corner of the room… And for what? The bitch ain’t got no hair! Deal with it.
For me, I don’t let people get away with being stupid and reactionary. I walk right up, and engage them.
“Soooooo, you wanna know about my bald head huh? Here, let me fill in that the hollow you call a backbone…”
I suppose the scar on the back of my head adds to the stigma. For me, it’s an opportunity to peddle cupcakes and tell tall tales, and they fall for it every time.
I can tell these fools I got into a car accident, had brain surgery, or cracked my skull chasing after Santa on Christmas and they’d believe me.
Funny thing is, the truth is far weirder to them than some tragic tale of cancer eating away at my gray matter.
I can’t outgrow my genes, but I can certainly surpass them. This chick, always goes out in a blaze of fire.