I need some excercise.
Alas. Last year's chiseled (bruised) rugby physique has faded to flab. Unable to bear those long nights of practice and bruised and battered shins and elbows, I turned to my darling Hispanic hair dresser, Enrique, for other options, be they surgical or pharmaceutical or mystical. Enrique is a licensed voodoo witch-doctor.
Enrique was less than charmed with my decision to stop playing rugby, "Meeester Gayest Neil. For years I haf known you and theenk you are just a beeeg, fat sissy. And then you begeen playing rugby and I theenk you are fat sissy - but now sexier wif da swaahgger and da blahck eyes."
Enrique laughed even as tears rolled down my double chin. "Oh Enrique! Please don't tease me this way. Rugby is just too hard. It jars my nerves with all the smashing and the running and tackling. And the time constraints! I have to go to the field. Plus they've already begun the season. I can't show up now--"
"YOU FAT COW!" Enrique grabbed me roughly by my arm's waddle hidden beneath my velour sleeve. He pulled me to his mirror. "Look aht you! See yourselhf! Look at how fat you ahrre!" I cried as the little Puerto Rican forced me to face his beautician's mirror. I was anything but beautiful. He manhandled my doughy, blubbery face like a burrito. My boyfriend and I love burritos.
Sure some guys like a boy with some meat on his bone. My bones held the meat, the sesame seed bun, the lettuce, the onions, the tomato...even the special sauce. A summer of fast food and fast loving has left me a rolly-polly wreck. "But p-p-please Enrique. Please. Give me a pill. Give me anything!" I knew he kept a stash of illicit medications in his beautician's dresser.
Alas. Last year's chiseled (bruised) rugby physique has faded to flab. Unable to bear those long nights of practice and bruised and battered shins and elbows, I turned to my darling Hispanic hair dresser, Enrique, for other options, be they surgical or pharmaceutical or mystical. Enrique is a licensed voodoo witch-doctor.
Enrique was less than charmed with my decision to stop playing rugby, "Meeester Gayest Neil. For years I haf known you and theenk you are just a beeeg, fat sissy. And then you begeen playing rugby and I theenk you are fat sissy - but now sexier wif da swaahgger and da blahck eyes."
Enrique laughed even as tears rolled down my double chin. "Oh Enrique! Please don't tease me this way. Rugby is just too hard. It jars my nerves with all the smashing and the running and tackling. And the time constraints! I have to go to the field. Plus they've already begun the season. I can't show up now--"
"YOU FAT COW!" Enrique grabbed me roughly by my arm's waddle hidden beneath my velour sleeve. He pulled me to his mirror. "Look aht you! See yourselhf! Look at how fat you ahrre!" I cried as the little Puerto Rican forced me to face his beautician's mirror. I was anything but beautiful. He manhandled my doughy, blubbery face like a burrito. My boyfriend and I love burritos.
Sure some guys like a boy with some meat on his bone. My bones held the meat, the sesame seed bun, the lettuce, the onions, the tomato...even the special sauce. A summer of fast food and fast loving has left me a rolly-polly wreck. "But p-p-please Enrique. Please. Give me a pill. Give me anything!" I knew he kept a stash of illicit medications in his beautician's dresser.
"Absolutely not! Meeester Neeil. Pleease wahnt you jhust conseeder plahying rugby again? Ah meen, hafen't you meesed dos guys?"
My mascara framed eyes ran streams as dark as a New Orleans alleyway. "Oh Enrique. Yes! Yes I've missed my rugby friends. I've missed the drinking and the communal showers and the accessorizing with the socks and the cleats and headbands." I began to cry even harder. "But my life is so hectic right now! My laundry lady, Sue Wu, has started asking me to seperate my whites from my darks!"
Then Enrique said something profound, "Meester Neil, I haf found meeny times that sometimes challenges are often the solution to feeling overwhelmed by the world than the cause of that feeling."
I sniffled and patted my eyes dry. "Enrique. Shave my head. I'm playing rugby and I so dearly wish to appear as butch as possible."
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