I have a full arsenal of depilatory creams, waxes and devices. If I do not maintain regular habits of ripping the hair out of my face I will look like this:
I kid, I kid. Seriously, I’m being too hard on myself. Realistically though, I would look a lot like this:
The similarities are shocking.
So it should have come as no surprise that when I was in the locker room the other day, two women speaking spanish began eyeing me suspiciously.
“Ju understand what we say?” She asked in an accusatory tone.
“ummm, naw..” I said in my southern drawl.
“Jus shore?” Skeptically.
“I’m sure, I speak not a word of spanish.”
Finally satisfied that I was not eavesdropping on their conversation, she clapped me on the back and said that I should at least be able to count to ten and order a taco or burrito. I conceded her point and chuckled nervously.
She pointed at my face and said I could be Mexican. That’s cool. This is awkward.