My Instagram feed’s blowing up,
because I can
pose in my undies
with my arms
Now, I can do this with increased confidence. They call it a transformation.
There’s nothing I can do about this cubed bonce, though.
The clinic can’t contour my skull at a price-point I can afford.
My head’s always been a problem.
Other than that, I can’t take enough pictures of the new me:
Look… it’s me at the gym.
Now, I’m in the bathroom in a new pair of undies I got in the post. Maybe the designer will see this and start paying me. I make a good commercial, don’t you think?
Well… don’t you?
Here are my sparkling veneers in ECU.
This is a crisp cut apple and some oatmeal; I’m a healthy guy. I’m on the stair-stepper to prove it.
I may be a role model.
It’s my dream to be a role model, to be an up and comer, to be an Inspiration, a page from the book of success.
See my before and after collage?
See my spartan diet?
See my inflated lips and buttocks?
See my ever-expanding tattoo?
Behold my carefully constructed semi-nude pose on this desolate beach; I’m blowing a kiss to you from behind my Persols.
Here I am with my ass out making smoothies.
Here I am with my nalgas exposed doing my laundry.
This is me in a jockstrap shaving.
I wear a lot of hats and bandannas. I’m letting my hair grow long again. There are work-arounds for most everything except a head like a gun safe. Hats. Puppy faces. Filtering the best I have to offer, like distilled water. Pictures from the neck down. Perfection from the neck down.