You are the picture of health. You get adequate rest and nutrition, your personal hygiene is beyond reproach and you never even touch yourself inappropriately. And none of it fucking matters.
Your body, probably bitter that it doesn't house someone more interesting, can without warning turn you into a creature so ridiculous the duck billed platypus would avert its eyes in shame. If it really wanted to be a dick, here's how your body would do it.
That Sounds Fancy. What is it?
Not everyone can be a supermodel. Sure, a flawless complexion and refined bone structure is a prerequisite for Cracked writers, but we understand it's an unfair standard to hold you slobs to. All that is important is you realize that your staggering unattractiveness makes you a unique and beautiful snowflake and the keratotic horn sprouting from your head just makes you that much more exotic.
Cornu cutaneum is more specifically an epidermal lesion common to the face, ears, nose, forearms and hands. If the image is striking a particularly National Geographic tone with you, it's because the horn is actually made of the same substrates that form a rhinoceros horn. It's pretty similar in construction to those horns as well, though of course the human equivalent isn't anchored to anything. Remember that distinction when the other kids on the playground taunt you about your horn so you can counter with "Shut up! Histologically, this isn't a horn because no axially positioned bone is present!" It's sure to stun them into silence before they laugh and beat the crap out of you.
We're just kidding about that last part. You don't have to be worried about being brutalized because of your horn. We guarantee no one will ever dare to touch you again after seeing it.
I'm Scared. How Scared Should I Be?
Think of the horns as a pop-up turkey timer. When one erupts from the otherwise placid surroundings--DING!--sir, your malignant melanoma is (probably) ready. In truth, over 60 percent of the lesions are benign, but 100 percent of the lesions are still associated with "Eww." Luckily, unlike other cancers with nondescript symptoms, odds are pretty good you'll find your way to a dermatologist tout suite when you start growing a fucking horn.
Try to look on the bright side. It may give you a distinct advantage when mating season arrives and you must demonstrate your alpha-rhino status in the herd.
Man, How Much Does Your Body Hate You?
For the purposes of this article, your body's loathing of you was quantified in the standard metric of kilojoules. However, since this is not readily relatable for most laypersons, we have a rough illustration for each measurement. The scale goes from absolute zero (approximately how much Mother Teresa despised the laughter of children frolicking with puppies) to 100 kilojoules (the theoretical bounds of hate as defined by Mr. T confronted with jibba-jabba).
= As much as we quietly despise Hugh Hefner for not adopting us, despite our many letters.
That Sounds Fancy. What is it?
One day, out of the blue, every microscopic injury or tear occurring within your muscles will repair itself by replacing the affected tissue with bone. Over time this process will either result in joints locking into place, limiting mobility and the ability to perform rudimentary tasks, or you'll be recruited to the X-Men in a plot-twist that reveals you're Colossus' bastard son.
Good or bad is really a matter of perspective here.
The most common early presentation of this disease is being born with oversized toes. Seriously. It's what helped popularize the the old axiom "You know what they say about guys with big toes, right? They probably have fibrodysplasia ossificans progressive. But they might have a big dick too."
I'm Scared. How Scared Should I Be?
Fibrodysplasia ossificans progressiva is a very rare disorder, with only several hundred cases reported worldwide. That said, if you've won the ossification lottery, you're kind of fucked.
We already mentioned your body remodeling into the Tin Man, probably prompting you to beg passersby to give you a sweet hit off an oil can. What you may not have considered is that your jaw is likewise as prone to this as anything. You could just as easily cease to eat or talk over time. The real rub is that none of this is treatable by surgery because it turns out scalpels somehow injure your body as well.
Man, How Much Does Your Body Hate You?
= As much as Satan hates bands using rock music for Christianity.
That Sounds Fancy. What is it?
For those not richly schooled in the biomedical sciences, here's a quick pro-tip. If you're a male diagnosed with a disorder with the prefix "gyn," you know it's going to be a rough one.
Gynaecomastia, occasionally referred to as bitchtits-itis, is a hormonal imbalance that causes a male to do something that no man should have thrust upon him, namely blossom. Courtesy of anabolic steroid abuse, some medication side effects or other unknown causes, the mammary glands have a surge of growth that results in honest to goodness funbags.
They are the real-deal, capable of lactation though probably not preferential admittance into the hottest clubs. This condition was popularized by the movie Fight Club, in which Bob/Meatloaf is forced to throw left hooks around his pendulous sweatermeat.
Even if those weren't props, they would still be less embarrassing than his song "I Would Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do That)." In fact, we're pretty sure that listening to that in its entirety is a probable cause of this condition.
I'm Scared. How Scared Should I Be?
Gynaeomastia will not kill you, but will most certainly assassinate your self-confidence. On the upside, if you've got a bad case of acne, this will really take the attention off it.
This is basically nature's greatest game killer, apart from the inappropriately timed and readily apparent erection in math class. If you're not popular at all, this just joins the legions of other blemishes that people will mock you for. If you do happen to be popular, this is pretty much assured to knock you down a peg or 12.
Man, How Much Does Your Body Hate You?
= As much as Wilford Brimley hates diabeetus.
That Sounds Fancy. What is it?
Anti-drug PSAs have long threatened that consumption of illicit substances will slowly devour your brain, rendering you a shell of your former self. This could well be true, but at least you got to trip balls before it happened. Opsoclonus-myoclonus syndrome (a.k.a. Kinsbourne Syndrome) cuts out the pleasant euphoric middleman and just starts chewing through your brain by itself.
Opsoclonus-myoclonus syndrome is an auto-immune attack on your brain. The mechanism for how it initiates is unclear, but researchers theorize that the pituitary gland starts a rumor that the cerebellum is housing WMDs and the immune system is obliged to tear the brain a new asshole while futilely searching them out. The attack has the surgical precision of operating with a hand blender, usually obliterating areas of the limbic system and brain stem as well. This hijacks control of basic motor functions, sleep regulation and emotional stability.
Though it probably finds a way to leave your ability to hate life intact.
I'm Scared. How Scared Should I Be?
Shockingly, this syndrome isn't fatal. So if you're the 1 in 10 million who develops it, rest assured that none of the facial tics, body tremors, bouts of confusion and rage, insomnia and instances of your eyes spastically jerking around in their sockets will kill you. Gosh, some guys have all the luck!
Man, How Much Does Your Body Hate You?
= As much as a vampire hates the sun.
That Sounds Fancy. What is it?
Imagine for a moment that one of the contact lens you're wearing starts to slip around on your eye. If you don't wear contacts, imagine you were inexplicably drawn to tuck something in your eyelid for safekeeping. No matter how you blink, squint or fish around for it, you just can't shake that uncomfortable prodding sensation on your most delicate tissue. Annoying, right?
Now imagine that contact lens is a 10 penny nail soundly lodged in your ocular cavity for days or longer. If you didn't have the balls to imagine it don't fret because cavernous sinus granulomatosis would happy to take the guesswork right out of it for you.
Cavernous sinus granulomatosis is a condition where channels behind the eye become inflamed, putting pressure on the bundles of nerves behind it. These nerves, not having the chops to secure a legitimate gig doing pain sensation on the outside of the body, can't miss their time to shine and really lay it on thick. This can also cause blurred vision and a tingling sensation in the forehead, but most patients seem to focus on the OH MY HOLY FUCK sensation of a nail in their eye.
The condition is idiopathic, a term constructed from Greek roots idios and pathos to mean "a disease of its own kind". It's a very fancy way of saying "We have no idea what is causing this ... are you certain there's not a nail in there somewhere?"
I'm Scared. How Scared Should I Be?
There's actually little to be scared of here, assuming you're a carny accustomed to goring your face with nails. The rest of you may feel free to shit yourself now.
Real nails through the eyes are usually reserved to the domain of B-movie action scenes, which means you're probably ill-prepared to deal with this pain. In a way, having an actual nail in your eye would be preferable, since even correspondence-schooled opthamologists will be able to diagnose and treat it. You might be able to suppress it with corticosteroids, but half of the patients have recurrences in a year regardless.
Man, How Much Does Your Body Hate You?
= As much as chihuahuas hate essentially anything.
That Sounds Fancy. What is it?
A strong jawline is often equated to manliness. There's just something so stout and indomitable about it that anchors ruggedness to the face. Really, the bigger the jaw the better. Hell, if you look like a blowfish that just had it's wisdom teeth removed, all the manlier.
We can only hope that belief is part of your cultural ideology before mandibular ameloblastoma sets in or you may find your quality of life reduced by the fleshy Suburban that just parked on your face.
Comparing them with Jay Leno is futile. Someone with mandiubular ameloblastoma looks like they've tucked Jay Leno into their cheek for wintertime storage. These bulbous cysts not only extend several inches from the face, but often deform and expel teeth from the jaw in the process. It acts as a tumor, but the root causes are speculated at everything from jawline infection to autoimmune issues. The only thing leading medical journals can agree on is that is it best classified as "fucking horrifying."
I'm Scared. How Scared Should I Be?
Mandibular ameloblastoma doesn't wish to kill you. In fact, it wouldn't even entertain the notion as that would perceived as merciful. It just wants to bleed your will to live, real slow.
It is unresponsive to traditional modes of chemotherapy and radiation. You can try and excise it, but if any is left behind, it will all too likely grow back. You can't reason with it. It doesn't feel pain or emotion. And it absolutely will not stop until it has forced you to excise your entire jaw.
Man, How Much Does Your Body Hate You?
= As much as Blu-Ray hated HD-DVD. Via con Dios, HD-DVD.
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