And my pits.
I haven't touched a razor for, like, a month. Why? Because I don't fucking HAVE to. It's winter, no one can see, I haven't had sex for two months and I'm LAZY. But it's gotten to the stage where I feel like it's either shave, or start shampooing.
Plus, I can't handle being fat AND hairy. I went to go for a run today, and realised that my running shorts were in the car that my father had just driven off in. And so started the search for a pair of shorts that I can fit.. I tried on about 6 pairs, of both mine and my dad's, before I found some that I could (just, and very uncomfortably) get done up. A few months ago, these same shorts were hanging off me, and the ones that I couldn't get done up today were fitting me comfortably.
At least I'm reasonably fit, if not skinny. Yar Sux Boo. Quote from a very skinny friend: "I look at Palmer St and have a heart attack." It's pretty much vertical. I CAN RUN UP IT. I JUST DID. Take that, skinny bitches at the gym!
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