My legs are not made for the art world.
They are not ideal for the vast industry I hope to dive into for several reasons:
1) I will never pull off the gaunt, heroin-addict look that many artists strive for and achieve. I suppose I could attempt the whole eating disorder shtick, but that only works for as long as I'm not hungry.
2) Without looking heroin chic, I will not be able to wear a pair of leggings with a baggy Oxford shirt without a group of pretzel-stick hipster girls giggling at my "bulbous" calves.
3) With shapely legs like mine, I will never be able to meet Robert Crumb (is he still alive?) without being mentally or sexually harassed in some way. Seriously, there are days when I look down at my legs and think about how many feet away from me he'll have to stay as ordered by my (future) restraining order.
But lucky for me, hipsters usually drop out of art school by their second year and Robert Crumb is old and not necessarily looking to go into film and video (except for his one documentary.)
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