My Monsterhood

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When I do jokes about cosmetic surgery, people sometimes assume I am against it. Far from it. I am not only totally in favor of cosmetic surgery, it saved my life.

If you're not familiar with my breathtaking looks, have a glance at the photos at the top of this page. Most people think that nature blessed me with an incredibly fortunate combination of genes, but it is not true. In fact, not unlike Frankenstein's monster, I came into this world as a hideous beast that sent children and adults alike running in terror. As I got older, the problem only got worse. My parents feared I would be doomed to a life of solitude and failure.

Then everything changed one day when I was 17 years old. My mom and I were on our way to the grocery store (I was banned from the store because I made the other customers too sick to buy food, but I enjoyed the ride) when she ran over something that she thought was a dog. Mother screeched to a halt and jumped out of the car, as no one in my family could turn down free meat. But alas, it was not a dog we had hit but a man. A man who was under the car and still alive. A man who was the most gifted plastic surgeon in Tulsa, Oklahoma.

When I leaned down to look under the car all I could see was a dark lumpy shadow pinned beneath the transmission. From the darkness of that twisted shape came the words I will remember for as long as I live, "I can fix that."

One year later, the good doctor was walking with only the aid of a cane and I was a new man. Doors of opportunity that I never dreamed possible with my hideous former face were thrown open like sphincters at a colonoscopy convention. By the time I was 26, I was given a syndication contract for Bizarro based on my looks alone.

The rest is history.