When I was born my mom couldn't believe her eyes.
Her first words to the doctors were "Eeh gads, that can't be my baby!"
She said I looked like a monkey,
I had so much hair all over my body.
As I grew I learned to hate the hair on my body. I observed my mom as she burned her arm hair over a candle, smelled up the whole house.
I wanted to do something... but not that.
So one day when I was around 10 years old, I was taking a bath in my grandma's tub, I saw a razor.
I decided shaving my arms wouldn't be as smelly as the candle burning. Unfortunately, I didn't realize how sharp those things are and sliced one deep line into my wrist. It bled like crazy and I still have the scar.
Really freaked grandma out!
