I’ve never been much of a painter. I admit it. I hate saying that because deep down inside, I’ve always wanted to be an incredible painter. Even when I was younger, I can remember seeing priceless pieces of art and thinking, “Whoa. That’s a priceless piece of art. I’ll remember this.” And you know what? I do remember. My eye can recognize art but my hands cannot duplicate or create it. I can paint pictures with my words but my hands are as useless as an 85-year-old penis without the medical marvel that we call viagra.
I tried to paint my breast like a reindeer. You can tell that it’s a reindeer but it’s more of the abstract variety of reindeer.
Early today, I said that I would never paint my breast like a reindeer. I said that because I knew I would try but I wasnt sure that I would have the courage to share my reindeer with you.
It needs no reminder but let me remind you anyway. Please do not mention the size of my nipples. I am self-conscious about them. Thank you for understanding.