Pluck

I know. I know there are things such as razors and electric shavers. I know these are things and that they exist.

But this is more than a morning routine to get rid of an unsightly five-o-clock shadow.

This is a transformation.

If I have to pick each one of these little bastard black hairs from my arms and shoulders and stomach and legs, then I will.

I will pluck and I will hurt and at times I will bleed.

You wouldn’t want to know somebody that’s never been through an ounce of pain.

When I’m finished, everybody will want to know me.