Hair of the Blog Contest

Those of you with weak stomachs or simply a smidgen of class, please turn away. Read no further. Look no further.



















Seriously, stop scrolling unless you are truly prepared for the big hairy monster at the end of this blog. Do you need a warning from Grover?







Fine. It's your choice. But my lawyers insist on a disclaimer:

I cannot be held responsible for any nightmares, psychotic breaks, projectile vomiting, compulsive shaving of strangers, or complete loss of respect for me that may ensue after you see the following graphic images.


OK, let me begin with the backstory. Rachel decided to have a little contest. See the full description and rules here.

Participants chose a body part to enter, removed the hair completely from said body part, then proceeded to let hair grow unhampered, wild, and free for the next three weeks. We were to provide weekly updates on our blogs or send our photos to Rachel. I opted for the latter because I knew I wouldn't have time to blog on it as required. Actually, I realized that if I managed to blog about my hair growth every week, you all might expect me to blog about Alexander that frequently. I just couldn't risk setting the bar that high. I've got work to do (on Facebook).

Anyway, I did promise to blog at the end of the contest, which is tomorrow, so here, for your viewing disgust and dismay, is my entry in the Hair of the Blog contest, starting with week 1.

I call it Chia Pit.

My first photo:



After a week, I was a bit worried. How could I compete with the sasquatches that had entered this contest? No offense, ladies (and Rachel).



(Yes, he had a nose job during that first week. He's kind of sensitive about it, so please keep your comments to yourself.)

By week two, I realized I needed to do something to coax more hair out. I tried a drip irrigation system, fertilizer, Rogaine, a snake charmer, and I even considered applying a hairpiece:



And now, after three weeks, I can actually see enough to tie in a knot. If I had really small fingers.



Now I know what you're thinking (if you are not too stunned by this inanity to think): I don't stand a chance. My hair growth is paltry. Most of you probably had babies born with more hair than this. I am, in fact, eating a peach at this very moment that sports more growth than my poor, sparse pit. To win this contest, I would need to somehow convince everyone that they do indeed see, in my pit, something like this:




But here's the thing: The contest winner is the one who gets the most VOTES. There will be no official data collection, no measurement of hair, no shave-and-weigh. All I need to do to win is convince all of you (and by extension, everyone you know who has a strong stomach) to vote for me.

So, tomorrow or over the weekend, please go to Rachel's blog and vote for me and my Chia Pit.

A vote for me is a vote for the underdog. And the underarm. Really, you just can't go wrong. Except that I shouldn't win. Really. I mean, go look at the Cousin Its in this contest. Then vote for me anyway.