Hand Me the Hair Glue

Last night, as I was swaddled in blankets and innocently watching The Simpsons, this came running out from the bathroom, squealing and laughing to tackle me on the sofa:

Needless to say, I screamed.

I think the exact words were something along the lines of, "OH MY GOD WHAT DID YOU DO?!?"

Yes, people, The Varmint has been shorn. I'm all for self-expression, but in my book you consult your partner prior to whipping out the sheep shears and going to town on yourself til the point you're bald. I nearly pooped myself that first nanosecond I saw him because I thought a stranger was in the house; of course no burglar can cackle like that, so it didn't take long to figure out the hairless pink man in front of me was, indeed, my gorgeous hubby - just a few pounds lighter and a lot more aerodynamic. (See "Before" picture.)

I know I'll get used to The New Guy, heck, maybe I'll even grow to love his shiny sleek exterior. But for now, I must confess, I miss the old furry Varmint: While possibly less hygenic, he was far cuddlier and much less pink.

Perhaps we can start a write-in campaign: BRING BACK THE FUR. If it works, we won't have to change my husband's Varmint Twin* to this:

[* Pssst: Don't remember what a Varmint Twin is? All men have one. Read this post and gain enlightenment.]


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I am a writer and lazy artist who loves travel, architecture and design. Right now, I'm into photography. My fabulous husband (a.k.a. The Varmint) and I are also the principals of a San Diego-based creative agency - and new parents to the divine Baby Mak. Read More >