Insecurity

It's official: I'm ugly.

After all of this talk about the new TSA security measures, I was skipped over at LAX this past weekend. Here I was waiting to either be patted down or full body scanned, but neither occurred. Am I to believe that, despite having permission if not legal obligation to sexually harass me, the agents declined to take advantage? The closest I came to being propositioned was when someone asked me to remove my shoes.

How will they ever know that that's not a weapon in my pocket without investigating further? Surely I'm hotter than that morbidly obese man and the housewife wearing mom jeans and a visor, both of whom warranted a closer inspection.

It is a great irony that, after passing through security, I've never felt so insecure.