There was a stunning young lady in hot yoga today.
Long, wavy brown hair that moved rhythmically with her through each pose.
Soft, large, green eyes that would swallow you whole if got caught up in them.
Full pouty lips that could hypnotize a man to give away his ATM pin.
High and strong cheekbones that displayed confidence and demanded respect, but not in an intimidating way.
Long legs and a high buttocks that made her look like she was getting ready to strut down a runway and then drop-kick a skinny bitch off the edge of the cat-walk.
So perfect that any attempt to describe them would fall far short of the mark.
I admired this stunning creature for the duration of our hot yoga class.
My neck is more limber than its been in at least a decade.
After class, I sat down next to her, just so I could be extra creepy and smell her sweaty, post-yoga aroma.
I bent to tie my shoes.
And then I saw it:
Big Toe Hair.
And it wasn’t just a singular lonely hair that had been accidentally missed like that one strip of grass that is growing against the fence that you can’t get at with your lawn mower.
This situation was a disaster.
It was like the lawn of that one guy who lives on your block whose wife died a decade ago and he hasn’t mowed the lawn since because he’s baracaded himself in the house with jars of his own nail clippings because he’s lonely and that’s the only thing that makes him feel better.
That’s what this big toe situation like that.
This girl’s big toe made her look like Big Foot’s cousin.
No, this girl’s big toe looked like it fought Big Foot’s cousin in a fight and won.
You could lose loose change in her big toe hair.
If this girl ate while barefoot, her big toe would collect crumbs the way my Uncle Dave’s beard does.
Ladies. Listen. You’re beautiful and we love everything about you, even the imperfections. Those imperfections are what make you so sexy.
Except for big toe hair.
You can’t have big toe hair.
I know we aren’t supposed to objectify you, and we are supposed to be able to move beyond things of this nature, but, welp, no. No big toe hair.
Big toe hair is a dead give-a-way that you do things half-assessed. A girl with hairy big toes also waits three to five more days than she should to shave her legs.
She doesn’t floss, but lies to her dentist and tells him she does.
She doesn’t reciprocate in oral.
She invites you over for dinner, orders take-out, and then pretends she cooked it.
Hairy big toe girl will laugh at your jokes, pretend to like sports and beer, make nice with your mother, and then, after you marry her, she’ll quickly gain 100 pounds, quit her job, lose her razor, forget where the washer and dryer are located, divorce you and take more than half and then she’ll run away to the deep forests of the Pacific Northwest and she’ll use your money to pop out a litter of hairy big toed children whom you’ll never get to meet, but whom you’ll forever be responsible for supporting.
Hairy big toes are a deal breaker.
Shave those toes lady.
(This post brought to you by sexism)