Look at me! No makeup. No fishface kiss at the camera. You won’t see this picture on instagram.
Do you see my pants? I think they’re made of burlap! If Mom saw me, she’d tell me I looked like Gravel Gertie. Yeah, I don’t know who that is either.
I ripped my only pair of pants jumping off a milk truck. A milk truck! Actually, that’s a whole other story. I bought these pants at a market—like a Target, but outside. Pots and pans, and pants and shirts, and sandwiches—little buns with slices of pig’s head. No, really, they were yummy.
My teeth have a cruddy film on them because I just can’t brush them well in the jungle. And do I care? No. I’m in the jungle! I’m sleeping in a hut on stilts—with no electricity, no plumbing, and an outhouse. I feel like Robinson Crusoe!
I do have four mosquito bites on my ass. They itch so bad. I need to remember to DEET my butt so when I pee in the outhouse at night, I don’t get malaria. Now that would suck.
You know what’s most amazing? I haven’t looked in the mirror in days, days. Days! And it’s interesting, I haven’t, not once, compared myself to another person, noticed my short legs or my squinty eyes or my big calves or even felt fat. Actually, to tell you the truth, I haven’t once felt bad about myself. Actually, really, I haven’t thought much about myself at all.
Why do you think that is?