You get the point.
So I know that I am not Doug Herrernan fat but I definitely married outside of my league, after all she was dating this when I met her:
But I had come to terms with being the lesser beauty in my family...come to terms? What I mean is I nailed it and I was living the high life...though my wife has been asked more than once if I was super rich or something, but that was her problem and not mine.
Then came Daisy. She is, like, incredibly beautiful...shockingly beautiful. We are stopped daily where someone tells us how beautiful my daughter is...multiple times a day. And it's true, and while I always wanted to raise a super ugly girl who wears a back brace that connects to her head gear and then at 30 sheds her metallic exoskeleton and blossoms into a reasonably handsome woman with a PhD and a Nobel Prize in Chemical Engineering for discovering the most lucrative way to Chemical Engineer who marries a Priest who converted to Mormonism a week before he met my daughter. But instead, all I can do is hope her supermodel height will keep those adolescent boys at bay long enough for her to graduate high school. We all have battles.
So then came Milo. At first we were told we were having a girl, and while that seemed exciting, I was nervous that another girl may not be as physically gifted as her sister and would grow up wishing she looked different...which, I suppose, all girls do, but it was something I worried about. Then, she wasn't going to be a she but a he and he would never have to live up to his sisters beauty, much like I don't have to live up to my wife's.
When he was born he looked like this:
Your average puckered faced prune that parents love and everyone else sees for what it is, a human pickle whose jar had just been opened. And I loved him. He would be my buddy. The two boys who, though they could dress themselves like upper class British professors or elegant shipwreckees, didn't have to worry about social physical demands and neither one of us would be Abercrombie or Fitch.
It's been 17 months, and now he looks like this:
Yup.
So, I guess today I'm announcing my Kickstarter to have my face, well, not my nose, but much of my original face placed on the next olympian who meets an untimely end. I mean, I wanted to be the ugliest guy at my dinner table...every dad does, but, come on, this is embarrassing.