Part 2\r
Then I would go through it all over again. The hassle of weekly appointments. The burn of the hot wax. The sharp pain of the hair being ripped out at the roots. Was it all over? Was my dream destroyed? Would I never live to see the day I would walk down the runway like Derek Zoolander sporting the newest Fendi shades and Ferragamo man-purses? I cursed my misfortune. I was devastated! I stopped eating. My waist went from a very healthy 34? (bear in mind that I?m 6?8?) to a measly 28?. The skin on my cheek sunk which only accentuated my high and protruding cheekbones and pouty lips. I wouldn?t leave my cave in the forest. I became more self-conscious than an anorexic 12 year old girl turned down by the high school jock. Those were the worst days of my life.\r
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But one morning I woke up and took a long hard look at the mirror while listening to the soundtrack of ?Top Gun? (ohhhh, that Val Kilmer?.sigh). Turning my back to the world was not the answer. I had to do something. And so I packed my bags and left.\r
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I traveled to Scandinavia but the incredible beauty of the Vikings was too much for me to take. I felt more inadequate than ever before. I then went to the Middle East. But there, people ? men and women alike ? admired my hairy chest. They said ?You are REAL man, high five? in a quintessentially Kazakh accent. I would not find an answer here. So I moved on again. I traveled to India but the people were too busy writing computer code for Bill Gates to offer a meaningful suggestion. I then trekked the Himalayas into China. The Chinese told me that the secret to a beautiful and hairless body was steamed Mandarin catfish. I ate that to my heart?s content but to no avail. I would wake up with fish on my breath day after day but the nappy chest hair would remain. Alas, I gave up and moved on. The Pacific islands. Africa. Australia. South America. I traveled everywhere. I left no stone unturned, no magic potion untried?\r
(continued?)\r
Pros: Cindy
Cons: Nothing
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