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The Mathematics of Glamour = Chicken Legs + Mermaid Waves

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In mathematics, my nose equals the uniqueness quantification. There is one and only one. That’s why I like schnozzles. Unless you’re Heidi from The Hills, your button is probably pretty rare. Do let your nose speak its own language. Don’t pick or prod … in public.


Moving beyond the world of beaks, I fancy a few other elements in life: imperfections, laughing, and playing with messy art supplies. Really messy. Combining all three is absolutely sublime.


Next time you complain about your frog legs, jiggly arms, frizzy mane, or big bootay, break out some crayons! Take a few minutes out of your busy schedule (translation: five less minutes on Facebook), and create your own caricature. Be brutal. And be your best friend.


We all have an image of ourselves that we carry around. It doesn’t mean it’s true. I like to think that I have long mermaid waves. Do I? Sure, when I fry the hell out of my hair with my crimper on a rare occasion—like Cinco de Mayo.


I do not wear exotic flowers in my hair as I prance around the city, but I have always wanted to rock that look. I’m searching for the right flower for my debut.


The curve of my mermaid hips erases all rigidness from my path. Inflexibility—clear the way, fool.


Damn chicken legs. I’ve been around them for a while so we’re no longer foes. We’ve joined together amicably. Sometimes, when I look in the mirror, I see the splitting image of a rooster—minus the wattle. I’ll have that one day, too.


Doodle. Draw. Paint. Play with mud. Create yourself. Good and bad. Embellished, grotesque, minimal, flamboyant, etc. If you can’t laugh about yourself, then what the hell is wrong with you? (Kindly asked.)


I’ll post any of your lovely art. I’d love to share so please send.

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