Why nuns hate my knees

Nuns are no fun.

As I walked into the commercialized monastery of St. Stephan in Meteora, Greece, I was eager to learn about some weird rock-dwelling Greek monks. Despite being harassed by angry elderly European women at the ticket booth, I was looking forward to a good time.

Until I came to the realization that nuns are opposed to any form of happiness — and fashion, for that matter, because they deemed my knee-revealing shorts so unholy that I would be a disgrace to the entire Greek Orthodox religion.

I lowered my shorts, so as to cover my knees. “No,” said the disgruntled nun.

I grabbed a shawl from the selection against the centuries-old stone wall. “No,” repeated the monosyllabic nun. Apparently my solution to covering the satanic joint in between my thighs and lower leg was too androgynous for Ms. Sunshine’s fashion tastes.

I told her I paid for my ticket already, and that I would like to receive admission into the prestigious historical sight. She threw a few coins into my hand, as if to spit into it, and yanked my ticket from me. At least that’s 2 less Euros going to the anti-knee establishment that is Eastern Orthodoxy.

Here’s a thought: God made me with knees for a reason. If you think that’s shameful then you clearly don’t understand your God’s plan.

God planned for me to go to H&M and buy a nice pair of above-the-knee shorts. God planned for me to travel to Meteora, Greece. God planned for me to visit the monastery so I could learn some goddamned history.

And you just interfered with God’s plan, you knee-shaming celibate.

Yeah that’s right; we all know the reason you aren’t married isn’t because you’re a nun — it’s because no man would EVER dare to lie next to you every night.

The only way for religion to avoid vanishing into obscurity, eclipsed by atheism and apathy, is to reform. If you fail to tone it down — even just a notch — your religion will surely be on its way out.

It’s a good thing you live 1500 feet above normal person altitude, because I don’t want to be anywhere near your confining beliefs.

But if, perchance, I am ever near you again — let me expose my goddamned knees.

Meteora, Greece. Nice views, not-so-nice nuns.