WHY IT'S SO FRACKING IMPORTANT FOR ME TO BE UNATTRACTIVE. A theory.

I can only assume it's character building. Probably, I would be a wretched self entitled racist puppy-kicking hater of everything good and righteous if I got the chance to be a real life attractive person. I can only assume that my yucks exist because they must exist or, like, I would die.

Dang it, if my case of the uglies doesn't have some deeper philosophical meaning, then forget it.  Forget everything.

I friggin quit.

I'm losing weight. I weight 5 pounds less now than I did at my high school graduation. Also, I learned how to apply makeup, and my hair doesn't look quite as orange as it once did, my crazy tooth gap decided to magically fix itself, and I just bought these wonderful new red shoes that just might just be the key to EVERYTHING.

So if I'm being completely honest, I'd say that I was almost starting to feel a little bit hotstuffs up until a few days ago.

My face, with it's 7 scars and generally comic features, has found a whole new way to get weird.  You know that awesome 8 miles of running I did on Saturday? Well it had an exciting new effect.

My face-skin is tanning botchy and weird. Like, I look a little bit like bleach dripped out of my hairline and splashed on my face.  I look like I have that thing Michael Jackson SAID he had which motivated him to turn himself into the White Witch. It's new.  And weird.  And WHY IS IT NECESSARY FOR ME TO CONSTANTLY FIND WAYS TO LOOK WEIRD? Stop it, Mirror. Pick on someone your own size. Like the window. 

The thing about having been an ugly duckling is that, you're supposed to turn into a beautiful swan, not a funky duck.  Of course it would seem that I have not received that memo, as my whole self appears hell-bent on the funky duck thing. 

Anyway, there you have it. Lesson for tonight: Laugh at the Mirror, folks, because he's SERIOUSLY trying to make you look like an idiot here, and you shouldn't let him. He's totally just jealous.