Calf-a-teary-a

Everytime I look down at my legs I want to cry. Not because I don't admire them of course, but because no one else will ever come close to owning two limbs so exquisite, and it disheartens me. They are the epitome of perfection and if you're body really is a temple, as they say, then my calves are two fucking ample, pulsing bags of kosher salt. They are perfect in every facet. They intimidate, antagonize, bewilder, and amaze. I realize that many people may not agree with me, and therefore I may stand alone...On the most glorious pair of stems this hemisphere has ever known.

There was a craze back in the day known as Livestrong bracelets. There is no need to explore the nature of these wristbands, because everyone knows what they are and what they stand for. I am in full support, and actually wear one myself. But I was considering starting another brand. One that is worn on your calf as a WalkStrong movement. Walkstrong is for all those people out there with chicken, bow, scrawny, stumpy, or just fucking ugly legs. Everytime you buy a pair of shorts, you will have the option of donating a dollar to Walkstrong and receiving a rubber bracelet that will be worn around your calf muscle, or lack thereof in comparison to mine. All proceeds will go towards calf implants for the people who are afraid to throw on a pair of swim trunks because their legs look like two fluorescent office lightbulbs on motion sensors (you almost want to wrap them both in that clear, but textured, and slightly opaque plastic box that envelopes the bulbs as they hang overhead and shine down upon miserable employees who are dreaming up ways to burn the motherfucking building down.)

My calves are the only thing that give me confidence. I am devoid of self-esteem in every other aspect of life. You may be saying to yourselves "Well gee, why can't you just find God? He'll help you get back on track?". It's ironic, because my legs are the sole reason I can't even go to church anymore. Kneeling down for prayer, and denying the rest of the population visual access to my sleek beauties is more of an unholy act than not praying at all (there's sinning, and then there's shin-ning, and there is no difference.) So everyone hop on board and WalkStrong bitches. We'll have a grandiose party to kick this worldwide fundraiser off....And we'll all get fucking legless..

Don't even think of trying to get in if you're not on the fucking list...Cuz I'll be at the door bouncing...on the balls of my feet, waiting to sick one of my stack-of-ashtray-sized calves on you like a beaten, bastard, bloodhound with a hatred for douchebags that'll literally make you weak in the knees.