I have decided to make FftPoMM my personal blog and Glitter and Gloom my main blog.
It's 2012. S still lives here, chaos still reigns, and rains. I found out where my camera went. D&O stole it and took 25 photos with it before baptizing it in sticky drool. Christmas was ok, it wasn't a wash per se, but we sure as hell could have tried harder.
January has started on several typical notes, not the least of which was the class I wanted not being on the schedule and S begging me to be her baby sitter for the semester.
At least I am taking some SCORE classes to learn how to really focus my energies as far as having a business goes. That's actually a really encouraging part of this year so far.
My birthday is in 3 days and if I am not treated like a princess I will quit as myself and make someone else be me.
Hmm, that's all for now. At least a short update is better than no update.
Showing posts with label birthday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label birthday. Show all posts
Monday, January 16, 2012
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Birthday Countdown. -2 Days
Normally I am super excited about my birthday, but with Christmas being so laid back and mostly present free, I am not sure about my birthday this year. It just seems like the last few years have been very hard on all of us financially and the gift giving and receiving occasions I normally look forward to, I have been dreading.
I know it might seem selfish, but dammit, I want presents for my birthday!
Ok, immaturity over for now. I know there are others in the world with nothing and I am truly thankful for a roof over my head, a family that loves me and the opportunity to be back on insurance.
I guess when I look at all of the things in my life that are going right, it sort of makes all of the things that are "wrong" seem so small and meaningless.
I know it might seem selfish, but dammit, I want presents for my birthday!
Ok, immaturity over for now. I know there are others in the world with nothing and I am truly thankful for a roof over my head, a family that loves me and the opportunity to be back on insurance.
I guess when I look at all of the things in my life that are going right, it sort of makes all of the things that are "wrong" seem so small and meaningless.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Hair in Weird Places
When I was little, I used to take an open glee in "hair spotting." My mom has a small brown mole on her right arm and sometimes the light would glint across it just right and reveal an abnormally long light brown hair. I tended to take notice when we were in the car together and when she was distracted making a left hand turn I would reach over to pluck it without having to worry about her smacking me. Or at least, not worry until the car was straightened out and in that case the hair was gone and smacking me wasn't going to make it grow back.
My dad was a more difficult case. Again, the hair was in a mole, but this one is on the back of his neck. No way would I ever tempt the wrath of dad by yanking a hair from any part of his body, even if, ostensibly, he wouldn't be able to see who had done it.
On and off I struggled with a fascination for pulling hair. I love to see it come out in clumps, I loved to see the roots and how different they looked from hair to hair.
This lead to some very strange instances where I ended up with huge holes in my eyebrows and later, while I was busy having a meltdown, I pulled all of the eyelashes out of both eyelids. Luckily, I worked at a beauty supply shop and got an extra good deal on fake eyelashes and glue. But my eyelashes never forgave me and the ones on my right lid grew in straight, and shorter than they had been. Needless to say I learned to stop plucking ANYTHING when I was stressed.
So you'd think that with this obsession with hair, both mine and other's, I'd be thrilled about hair in weird places. But the sad thing is, the day I noticed what looked like a dark brown hair stuck to my neck, and then realised it was coming out of my neck, I freaked. Unfortunately, it was later joined by another hair a little further back. One day I plucked both of them at the same time and the redness looked like vampire bites. I was not amused.
About six months ago, while my body was churning through hormones, getting ready for my monthly cycle, I went to try to clear a blackhead from my cheek. Yes, I know, leave them alone and they'll go away on their own. But this one had been there for 2 weeks and I was at the end of my patience. I gently squeezed, I furiously squeezed, I gave myself a bruise, and gave up. A day later, a short, wiry blonde hair had erupted from the "blackhead." It wasn't a pimple, it was my body smuggling a new hair onto my face. This whisker also gets plucked with both relish and disdain. I enjoy plucking it, I hate that I have to.
This leads me to not the weirdest, but the most regrettable place I have had a hair sneak onto. A part of my body I wanted to remain hair free until I was in my late 40's at least! Or older even, old enough to be mistaken for someones bubbe! That's right, you guessed it. On my 30th birthday, as I sat at a red light, my mother in the driver's seat, both of us going to be moral support for my grandmother at her pre-op appointment, I saw a long, light brown hair on my chin. I stared in quiet horror, quietly wishing for anything besides this, even a grey hair! But the chin hair just sat there in proud defiance. My childhood was over. Womanhood, and all that came with it, crashed through the roof of my car and landed on my chin.
I imagine that as I age, more hairs, in weirder places, will creep onto me, like kudzu in the south. And at first I will hack and pluck and wax, trying to keep the march of time at bay. And then eventually, I will sit back and laugh, brew myself a cup of tea and welcome the hairs as mile markers along the story of my life.
My dad was a more difficult case. Again, the hair was in a mole, but this one is on the back of his neck. No way would I ever tempt the wrath of dad by yanking a hair from any part of his body, even if, ostensibly, he wouldn't be able to see who had done it.
On and off I struggled with a fascination for pulling hair. I love to see it come out in clumps, I loved to see the roots and how different they looked from hair to hair.
This lead to some very strange instances where I ended up with huge holes in my eyebrows and later, while I was busy having a meltdown, I pulled all of the eyelashes out of both eyelids. Luckily, I worked at a beauty supply shop and got an extra good deal on fake eyelashes and glue. But my eyelashes never forgave me and the ones on my right lid grew in straight, and shorter than they had been. Needless to say I learned to stop plucking ANYTHING when I was stressed.
So you'd think that with this obsession with hair, both mine and other's, I'd be thrilled about hair in weird places. But the sad thing is, the day I noticed what looked like a dark brown hair stuck to my neck, and then realised it was coming out of my neck, I freaked. Unfortunately, it was later joined by another hair a little further back. One day I plucked both of them at the same time and the redness looked like vampire bites. I was not amused.
About six months ago, while my body was churning through hormones, getting ready for my monthly cycle, I went to try to clear a blackhead from my cheek. Yes, I know, leave them alone and they'll go away on their own. But this one had been there for 2 weeks and I was at the end of my patience. I gently squeezed, I furiously squeezed, I gave myself a bruise, and gave up. A day later, a short, wiry blonde hair had erupted from the "blackhead." It wasn't a pimple, it was my body smuggling a new hair onto my face. This whisker also gets plucked with both relish and disdain. I enjoy plucking it, I hate that I have to.
This leads me to not the weirdest, but the most regrettable place I have had a hair sneak onto. A part of my body I wanted to remain hair free until I was in my late 40's at least! Or older even, old enough to be mistaken for someones bubbe! That's right, you guessed it. On my 30th birthday, as I sat at a red light, my mother in the driver's seat, both of us going to be moral support for my grandmother at her pre-op appointment, I saw a long, light brown hair on my chin. I stared in quiet horror, quietly wishing for anything besides this, even a grey hair! But the chin hair just sat there in proud defiance. My childhood was over. Womanhood, and all that came with it, crashed through the roof of my car and landed on my chin.
I imagine that as I age, more hairs, in weirder places, will creep onto me, like kudzu in the south. And at first I will hack and pluck and wax, trying to keep the march of time at bay. And then eventually, I will sit back and laugh, brew myself a cup of tea and welcome the hairs as mile markers along the story of my life.
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