Let me start off by proclaiming I HATE DIMPLES! "What?!" you may ask. How can anyone hate dimples? Let me clarify. I'm sure that most of you, at the mention of dimples, pictured a cute, curly-haired, blond, Shirley Temple-esque kid who brightens the room when she smiles with those little puckers in her cheeks making her that much cuter. That's not what I'm talking about.
When I think of dimples I only imagine the product of the arch-nemesis of women everywhere, Captain Cellulite. These dimples can occur anywhere on the body, and aren't half as cute as the kind on your face (I almost said cheeks but this kind of dimple can appear there too, just a different kind of cheek). Oh, and once they're there getting rid of them is like trying to kill a werewolf. I mean, really, where does one find silver bullets anyway?
Of course, there are certain places on the body that it's more acceptable to see dimples, but I don't like them anywhere. That's why I'm nearly overcome with the urge to shatter the bathroom mirror whenever I step out of the shower. As I lift my leg to step onto the floor, there they are. Yes, my legs and bottom are riddled with dimples. Admittedly, I'm not as dimpled as I was a few years ago, or even a few months ago for that matter, but I have my dimples. I wonder, if I drew a smiley face on my arse and walked around pant-less, would it be any cuter? I doubt it. I suppose I just have to keep trying to get rid of them. Time for another lap around the block!