I'm literally only making this blog post because my boyfriend doesn't read the blog so a)I know he cannot tease me about it later and b)I don't have to roll myself in misery and embarrasment that he knows about it. Now that's settled, let's get down to furry brass tacks.
I have a hair on my face. An errant stray hair on my chin/cheek area. It grows about an inch and a half and it's horribly mortifying. The first time I was made aware of it my sister tried to brush it off my face and when she realized it was attached, her face contorted in the sort of catatonic disgust that I reserve for watching the saw movies, or a new driver parallel park. When I realized what was going on, I pretty much just shut down in complete embarassment and we stood there, in our apartment, marinating in discomfort like a thick curry sauce. We tamped down the hysterical terror pretty quick after that (Thank God for sisters) but I've been pretty paranoid about people finding it ever since, and I tend to check for it periodically. The latest time I found it marked a new chapter in irritation, however. Trying to yank out thin hairs is a trial in itself. Usually you drag your fingers along it, trying to get purchase, and it stings like a gunshot(someone should do a study on the increased nerve endings surrounding embarassing hairs because I'm sure there's a correlation). Usually you desperately resort to gripping it with a nail pressed against a finger pad, but even this is sporadically successful. Once the painful procedure is complete your face usually feels especially swollen and I often wonder if I have some sort of glowing hole, obvious to coworkers, passerbys, and astronauts.
Michelle, you say, this is disgusting, did you have a point to nauseating us all?
Why yes, dear reader, I do. It is to inform. A public service announcment, if you will.
The last time I found it,it was grey. Now, I am a grounded, logical person, who is not prone to jumping for conclusions, so I am afraid there is only one rational explanation: I'm turning into a werewolf. I have finally spent so much time out at night, instead of the day, also neglected shaving my legs, and had only the two pooches for company for so long, that I have, in fact, contracted Lycanthropy. I tell you this because I care about you all and wish you to be prepared. So definately stock up on lint rollers; between my voracious overeating, tendancy to prefer grunts to actual speech, and erratic behavior during the full moon (thanks menstral tides!) the only thing people will notice is the increased shedding.
If Meg McBlogger can have a signature, why can't I?