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Throughout most of my short-lived, mediocre life, I have wanted to be one thing above everything else. This thing is something extremely far out of my grasp as a human being. It is something that occurs genetically from birth; it is something that no amount of education could give me. From the early age of ten until today, I have wanted to be a supermodel with a sexy swimsuit calendar. This has been and will be an unfulfilled dream. The dream was born in me one night while I was sleeping. I had a thoroughly amazing dream in which a large amount of females surrounded me with fans and grapes. They fanned and fed, fanned and fed, fanned and fed for hours and hours on end. What a great dream. At one moment, my interests in the grapes began to wane and my half-naked, pre-teen body began to feel the chill from all of the fanning. I stopped all of the gorgeous females and asked them why they fanned me for hours and hours. The women responded simply with a point toward the wall. There I was in all of my ten-year-old glory! I was pictured on the wall in a swimsuit. Why? I was the model for a swimsuit calendar. It was an amazing feeling! This, my friends, was the moment in which I realized that I wanted to be a supermodel with my own swimsuit calendar. Go figure. The idea to become a supermodel with a swimsuit calendar followed me throughout my teen years. It followed me throughout my high school career and into my college career. About a year ago, I was modeling in front of the mirror in my bedroom - I was wearing this glorious two-piece bikini - a little red number. I realized while I looked at myself in the mirror that I should never, NEVER! become a supermodel with a swimsuit calendar. What many people do not know about me is that I have one of the hairiest bodies in the world. It's true. I have chest hair that confuses people. "Come on, Matt, we're in the pool, take off your sweater," they say. I respond, "I'm not wearing a sweater," and I cry. I've been tormented my whole life by my hair. Along with my hair comes the pure, unadulterated fact that men do not look good in two-piece thong bikinis. Maybe a one-piece would be fine, but I feel uncomfortable wearing one-pieces due to my overly sized pectoral muscles. My dream, shattered by my realization, has become a focal point at my therapy sessions - along with the idea that I may have a mental issue about wearing women's two-piece bikinis.
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