I look dangerously good in a sweatband.
Oh, hi, I didn’t see you there. Welcome to my 900th attempt at blogging for my own blog rather than getting paid to write blog posts for funeral homes.
This is the glorious first post. I’m so full of anticipation and wonderment and what not at the thought of sharing all my stories with you that I can barely contain myself. I don’t even know where to start. So I’ll start with my bio pic.
Since this blog is kind of supposed to be an honest assessment of my life, then in the interest of full disclosure, I feel like I should tell you that my bio picture isn’t really how I look on the daily. I know. Disappointing.
In order to get that picture, I had to brush my hair, which was such a task in itself that I almost gave up before I even got started. Then I had to style it into a person-like shape and put glue-like products in it and use a variety of small appliances on and around my head. I had to remove an impressive amount of facial hair in a long and tedious process that brought sharp instrument dangerously close to my eyes. I had to take almost 100 pictures of myself at different angles to get one where I didn’t feel like the weird angle of my adorable chins made me look like a mammal-potato hybrid. Then I had to put the picture through some kind of old-timey filter to get skin that does kind of look like a peeled potato. So potato can be good or bad when it comes to fashion, I guess.
This is a more accurate assessment of the bag of sexy I carry around. Yeah, I’m wearing a sweatband. Yeah, I make that look good. Yeah, you can take a minute if you need one.
Why am I wearing a sweatband? For the sweating, duh. It’s quite thick and absorbent. Oh, and also because the people in my neighborhood are starting a club called “Sweatbands against Sexism” but we’ll get to that another day.
Now that you know, I feel confident that we can begin building a relationship of mutual trust.