There are parts I'm not so fond of. Like the fact that I'm still waiting for my voice to drop.
And while most of my body has grown hair in awkward places, my chest remains quite bare. Well, it remains mostly bare. I wouldn't mind so much, but every now and then, puberty stirs itself into a frenzy and sprouts one dinosaur tensile hair. It has the strength of a copper wire and is onyx black and somehow grows overnight to be a 3 inches and sticking out of my sternum. It's disturbing to everyone.
I often question how these mammoth hairs came to be. What is going on inside my body that requires a Tarzan-like hair to pop out. It's not genetics. My dad has weird "everywhere" hair that sprouts out of every possible pore in his chest. Instead, I came up with a totally different and possible story that explains everything...
Underneath my skin, there is a Roman Colosseum made out of dried out lung and glued together with testosterone that the Roman Red Blood cells have been stealing from the rest of my body. For their own enjoyment, they have taken all my chest hairs as slaves and pitted them out against one another in a battle to the death.
|Hair Gladiators... chalk that up to some of the feverish dreams I've been having lately.|
After 100 feisty battles, the victor is raised up on a high plinth and granted freedom from his slavery, regarded a hero among my Red Blood Cells. This is when he pops out of my chest in embarrassing, unadulterated glory.
That's when I shave it off. And the mighty fall. Isn't that always the way?!