Do you ever look at yourself in the mirror and think, “Holy fuck, I’m ugly as bird shit!”? Yeah, it’s a common occurrence if you’re white, but I’m right there with you. There’s a ray of sunshine highlighting the immense amount of hair on my legs. It’s not the blonde, barely visible hair either. It’s like Wesley Snipes dark and it’s thicker than a Pakistani man’s eyebrows. It’s been three weeks since I’ve last shaved these beasts, but I could hardly give a flying fuck. Sometimes I like to emphasize the really terrible, gross attributes I’ve been gifted with. For example, I’m the typical hairy Mexican girl who can grow out a mustache better than any Asian man out there. I’m a disgusting human being; whether it’s genetic or something I’ve picked up from my filthy parents, I don’t know. I don’t wash my hands every time I use the bathroom, public or private. Sue me. I can’t do math for shit. Give me a math problem. Alright, let me take a look. So, how do you think Michael Jackson is fairing on the other side? Have a conversation with me and you’ll question whether or not I was speaking English at least once. I talk too fast, my pubes are everywhere, my hands look like I just fisted an elderly man with swamp ass, and you can’t find my actual leg through this damned forest of hair. All in all, I love my skeevy self.