My mom used to tell me that the reason why you should shave your legs and underarms daily was because you never know when you’re going to die and you should always be prepared.
I took this to the extreme and even shaved my arms with my sister’s electric razor. If didn’t have any hair left on my legs because I didn’t have any skin left, either. I shaved it all off and bled everywhere.
Do you think any doctor is going to want to stare down your seventies porn bush while they’re determining a cause of death? How distracting.
“Time of death: o-eight hundred. Cause of death: suffocation by way of pubic hair overgrowth.”
I used to make her prove to me she was my real mother by telling me something only she would know. I always imagined her unzipping her face to reveal something scary like a rotting block of Swiss cheese with worms and guts oozing out of every hole and one day and I’d be the one to say, ”told you so”.
Even though I thought she was a monster inside I was terrified of losing her. I even made her bury her necklace beneath her blouse when we’d ride on the escalator at the mall. I’d imagine her tripping, falling, and being sucked into the teeth at the end. Blood red mixing with orange julius and me, an orphan.
I guess that spawned my fear of unlikely decapitation and to this day I can’t keep my car’s sunroof open long because of it. I’ll imagine crashing, rolling, body rising up to the neck through the top as it lands and *thbbt*.
She even named me after a character who committed suicide on the soap opera, All My Children.
I think about this on days like today when I can’t stop looking in the mirror to make sure my face is screwed on right. Into the bathroom stall where I suddenly realize I’m wearing my underwear inside out and haven’t shaved my legs in months (again).
And yet I’d still have to describe my mood to you at this very moment as bursting with fruit flavor.
I used to pray every night that Jesus would kill my parents in a terrible train crash and that I would become an orphan and go to a really good family, with new bath towels and stuff.
I would always think that when I left the room, my family, sister included, would take off their human costumes and continue their alien plan of taking over the world. I imagined their true bodies to be blue and black and covered with alien mucus.
Exactly why I trim. I want to look good on the autopsy table. I want them to be tempted to do things unmentionable. I want them to steal my body and take it home, put it in their bed, and live with me for a night so they can say we were lovers.
i love that you were named after an All My Children character. it would be double-funny if your siblings were also named after All My Children characters. then one could say she named all her children after all my children. i’m gonna stop.
also, i’m not sure if i’ve told you how much i enjoy your new header picture: i really, really enjoy it. every time.
Loudon – I’m surprised we didn’t bump into each other in that daydream.
Lucas – I imagine you with an alien body made of Eddie Vedder flannel circa State of Love and Trust.
Maxton – You just reminded me of the movie, Kissed (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0116783/).
Sarah – Am I that predictable? My older sister, Erika, is actually named after Erica Kane on All My Children. My cousins are all named after characters from the movie, Steel Magnolias. I’m going to rebel and name my girls after auto parts.
Name your children after auto parts? You live in the south no one will notice!
You continue to make very valid points, Eric.
On the autopsy table they weigh your brain. Measure the length of your fingernails. (Just some details to go along with the shaved pubes, which, as far as I know, they neither weigh nor measure.)
Phew!
And thanks for dropping by.