Dear less hairy self,
Pay close attention. You need to do exactly what I tell you to in order to become the balls-out man machine that I am not. First, unless you want to be shopping for kid’s XL clothes at The Gap for the rest of your adult life, lose the friendship bracelets and start going to the gym. Now. And stop doing whatever your teachers are telling you. Get on good terms with the fattest girl in the third grade and then become her boyfriend. She’ll be the first one to have boobs. Once you’re considered cool for having a sophisticated lady on your arm, cultivate a sphincter-tingling nickname for yourself. Boss Hog should work. From there, everyone will adore you. Then make them regret it. I’m talking about placing your own stool in the class fish tank, phallic graffiti in your friend’s mom’s kitchen, kicking the gym teacher in the balls instead of doing that rope climbing thing. Basically, live it up while you can. Sooner than you think, you’ll be trapped in a world of court dates and felony charges, where it isn’t considered “cute” anymore to run around the deck of a public pool wearing a waterproof diaper, or to give that girl who sits in front of you in class a fun haircut with craft scissors. Public indecency is a real thing, and honestly, I’m worried for us.