CVI have always had very sensitive, delicate skin. Even the gentlest of healthcare products produces angry, red rashes that mar my otherwise exquisite complexion. After years of home remedies and ancient voodoo techniques, I have finally discovered the beauty regimen that works for me.
A few weeks ago, I began bathing in cow’s milk almost exclusively. The cool, soft silkiness of the milk is soothing on my skin, helping to eliminate the harsh side effects chemical products so often produce. But aside from the obvious aesthetic benefits bathing in cow’s milk provides, I’ve discovered a few surprising side effects.
After a couple weeks of bathing in cow’s milk, I started to feel an increase in my self-confidence. Life’s difficulties failed to shake my unflappable sensibilities. Obstacles rolled off my back. I swatted away criticism and harsh words like so many insignificant flies.
Along with my enhanced emotional resilience, I began to notice a difference in my body’s reaction to physical injuries. Sharp objects that would typically leave gashes and scars failed to penetrate the thick outer layer of my hide. I accidentally closed my hand inside my crimping iron and never even felt a thing. The heated metal simply left an embossed chevron pattern on my palm. I like it.
Four months into my new lifestyle, I began to notice an overall feeling of wellness. My stomach was previously just as delicate as my porcelain face. I naturally transitioned to a vegan diet, relying mostly on wheatgrass and a variety of fruits for sustenance. My meal times have increased drastically. I can take up to six hours to finish a single meal. Thanks to these changes, my overall digestion has greatly improved. Added bonus: I saved $40 last month because I no longer need to buy chewing gum.
My friends have come to love my new regime as much as I have. Any time they have anything planned, I’m practically guaranteed an invitation. My bestie, Bessie, is constantly asking me to go shopping with her and her sisters. I carry all the bags but they weigh, like, nothing, so it doesn’t even matter.
My neighbor’s Vespa broke down last week, and did he freak out or call a tow truck? No. He called me, because he knows I can haul up to three times my own weight without so much as breaking a sweat. I don’t even ask for much in return, either. All I want is a simple sugar cube and maybe a pat on the head every now and then. They always have a friend they can rely on to do the heavy lifting, and I never run out of apples. Everybody wins.
Every day, I walk outside to discover a new and exciting gift one of the adoring public have left for me. Baskets of fruit pile up on my doorstep. Burnt offerings and incense perfume the air around my patio. Occasionally, they perform a stray fan dance for me or wash my feet.
Even the general public has become fascinated with my every move. Why, just the other day, as I failed to heed a traffic sign and walked aimlessly in the street, I found the entire world came to a standstill just for me. Cars came to a full stop. Children laughed, fascinated by my mere presence. News vans slowly rolled next to me as I plodded along in the middle of the road. They liked me. It felt good.
Eventually, some very nice men with a truck came and helped me find my way out of the street. That’s how I ended up here in this field, surrounded by others just like me. Those nice men are back, ushering us into a large building just ahead. The air smells heavy of my kind … and something more … something darker. Oh, it’s my turn next.