Autorretrato con Mono
Oh my great heroine Frida Kahlo. Though my reasons to declare so are quite different from what can be expected. She was a painter whose fame even overcame that of his husband Diego Rivera. She was intelligent, too avanced for her time and culture, and deeply sensible. But damn it, who cares? She did not shave! That's what's important!
If only I could do the same. I'd save time, money and pain. But why is the influence of what surrounds me so strong that I can not even think about the possibility of showing my hairy armpits?
Very frequently I'm engaged in meaninglessness conversations about clothes, make-up and diets. When deeply inside I'm thinking how I hate all that. And I know many times I start them. Maybe just to feel part of all this culture.
The very truth it's that I don't give a shit about it. And that I'll wear pyjamas all day long. Many people around me have tried to change it, for almost 8 years indeed, with no success.
This is me. I have moustache and I like it! It's soft and comfortable!
