Normally today I’d put up a “Tip Thursday” post, but there’s been a bit of drama around here and I can’t stop thinking about the problem at hand. Or rather, the problem at face.
This morning I found a hair on my cheek. Rather, IN my cheek.
A freaking cheek hair.
A cheek hair.
IN MY CHEEK.
I’ll take “Two words that shouldn’t ever go together when referring to women,” Alex.
I know that everyone has a little fuzz on their faces, and that there are bigger problems in the world to spend time discussing. I understand that children go to bed hungry, and blahblahblah I DON’T GIVE A SHIT I’VE GOT HAIR ON MAI FACE.
I am neither a man nor a beast, so why is this happening to me?
I spotted the hair this morning and brushed it away, thinking it was an errant lock from my head. Sadly, this was not the case. It was gray (because OF COURSE IT WAS) and it was glittery. It was at least 3 inches long, and I may save it to use as tinsel on the Christmas tree, if I stop crying in time to buy a tree.
How did it grow so long? Is it possible that it’s been there for many days, or weeks? OH MY GOD IT’S BEEN THERE FOR MONTHS, HASN’T IT? It took three tries to pull it out and the root was long. It still hurts and there’s a bit of a hole marking the spot of the struggle.
Do I have a horrible disease wherein I start sprouting facial hair while the hair on my head thins and grays? Are my vital organs suffering at the hands of this nutrient-life-force-sucking cheek hair? Is this my “Welcome to 40, Biotch” warm-up? I’ve got 2 months left in 39 and I’d like to spend them facial-hair free, if possible.
I mean, I love a bearded man, so maybe my prayers were misinterpreted somehow?
Is this a precursor of what’s to come? What can I expect next?
Give it to me straight, friends. I’ll be back to check in a few hours. Until then, I’ll be upstairs.
Updated: Uh oh, you guys. It gets worse. Apparently, MUCH worse. Let my friend Sharon tell you: