Helping You Get the Most Out of Your Misery






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Monday, September 12, 2005


A Reader Shares

Many of the millions and millions of people around the world who visit Hairshirt on a regular basis are moved by the profundity of what they read to send us letters. A large percentage of these letters praise Hairshirt for being at the forefront of modern thought and for our keen insight into nearly every facet of the human experience. Others, though, seek to take advantage of the great wisdom of the Hairshirt staff to improve their own lives. Every great once in awhile, we get a letter that our editorial staff feel the need to share with the public.

Today, we are printing a letter from a Hairshirt reader with a unique story to tell.

Dear Hairshirt,

First, allow me to say that I think you are all the 21st Century equivalent of Solomon, Noel Coward, Teddy Roosevelt and Rod McKuen all rolled into one.

I have a slight deformity that has been, since birth, the bane of my existence. I have a third nostril.

As a child, I was taunted mercilessly by my schoolmates, who called me things like "triple boog" or "Sir Sneezealot" or "Eddie tri-nostril" or "hey freaky guy". In high school, I was the student council member who always got stuck taking tickets at every school dance, as I never had a date. Who, I used to think, would want to dance with a guy with a third nostril? I graduated at the top of my class from business school, but I have yet to follow my academic achievements up with real-world business success, because companies are hesitant to hire me. One exec actually told me, "Eddie, I don't want clients made uncomfortable in meetings because they can't figure out which nostril they're supposed to be looking at."

In addition to having difficulty with social acceptance, my condition has physical drawbacks. My my kleenex bill is outrageous. I've been kicked out of apartment buildings because of the tremendous volume of my snoring. I can't go near an Indian restaurant because of my hyper-developed sense of smell.

Until I found Hairshirt, I tried to put a happy face on my life. I smiled when children on the street would point and say, "Mommy, that man gots a third nostril!" I suffered through countless rounds of unsuccessful speed-dating, which often were ended preemptively with the vomiting of the woman sitting opposite me. I attended church regularly and told myself that God must have a reason for making me this way.

Since I began visiting your site, and took to heart your message of wallowing in and embracing your misery, I've abandoned such superficial attempts at happiness and found my life's true joy in small every day moments like freaking out Mormon missionaries or chasing little kids down the street, pointing and yelling, "I smell your fear!" I realize now that I
am a freak. And the fact that it gives me something to bitch about on a regular basis makes my life so much richer.

Thank you,

Eddie Fasnell
Concord, NH

Eddie, for all of us at Hairshirt, allow me to say that you sound really hideous, what with the third nostril and all. Thanks for reading Hairshirt, but please don't send us any pictures or anything like that, okay?

Maybe Gidget would like to go live with him, you know, to keep him company and all.
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