Project 25, Post No. 9: Growing up

I have a confession to make.

I’ve got a bit of a Napoleon complex.

Yep - I know. Barely peeking over five feet, I’ve always been referred to as “cute.” To this day, people still pinch my cheeks (on my face, you pervert).

But cute doesn’t cut it. I hate being “cute” – it connotes a weakness I resent. I’m not weak, I am me.

OK, play the below while you read the rest of the post. Trust me, it’s added drama.

Today, I got a message from someone I cut out of my life. He sent me an adorable picture of a baby otter.

But you know what those adorable otters grow up to be?

“Necrophiliac, serial-killing fur monsters of the sea.”

“In one prior report on breeding-associated mortality, a tagged territorial male sea otter held a struggling female underwater until her body became limp and then copulated repeatedly with her carcass. Ten months later, this same male was observed with the carcass of another female sea otter. In both cases, the male was swimming, diving, guarding, and copulating with the carcass.”

So beware of baby otters, folks. They may be cute and cuddly at first, but the next thing you know, they’ve killed you and screwed you.

Think your former lover is a manipulative, selfish manchild? Me too! Instead of retail therapy or eating a box of donuts with a vodka chaser, donate to clean water instead. It’s better for your arteries.

Here’s the link: stayclassy.org/25reasons.