NOT BY THE HAIRS OF MY CHINNY CHIN CHIN

It just got realer than real deal holyfield up in here.

So i'm in the mirror self actualizing (read: staring and obsessing) and i see a little black something on my chin. Thinking its a piece of dust, or, errant eyeliner i swat my hand at it to wipe it away. Um...why come it didn't move? I lean in closer and - Oh! the humanity! - Its a hair. A rogue piece of keratin. On my chin. Your girl(yes im still on that) is about to be matisyahu-lite.

Time is the great equalizer, but its also cruel and unkind. Like what did i ever do to deserve this? I try to be good. So why am i getting hair(s) on my chin, when i'm sure there's some nice young man dying to get his ross on but he can't so he settles for the bigen special? Why? He surely needs chin fur more than i do.

I guess this means my body is producing more testosterone or...something. (any docs in the building?) That in itself is enough to send me into a hissy, but seeing the evidence of my hormonal zeitgeist is just too much. Am i too young for hormonal therapy? I am just going to have to resign myself to being a browner vera de milo?

Of course i plucked it out, but i couldn't help but feel icky for the rest of the day. I felt like i everyone knew my dreadful secret(and now yall do cuz im blogging about it) like I was wearing a giant A on my chest. A for alpaca. Thats what i'm about to be in a few months if this keeps up. I'll be prized for my glossy coat. Want wool? I got your golden fleece right here baby.

Seriously chin hair is for old ladies. Old ladies that rock comfortable shoes and support hose rolled down to just below the knee while wearing a servicable house dress...in the supermarket. Old ladies that call everyone baby and ask for suga and expectorate loudly and have large bosoms with reading glasses attached to a chain - worn without a hint of irony - as they rest atop the fleshy shelf.

They're the ones with hairy chins. In fact, they're supposed to have hairy chins. Its part of the package. I mean i was looking forward to having my hairy chin...in 50 years. When a lady sports a beard like its no thing it means she's arrived right? All her womanly duties have been performed. She's had children. She's been married. She turned some fine young thing out. She's seen and done it all, and now its ok to rock the goatee. But i haven't done any of these things. Whats next? Am i going to wake up tomorrow sounding like della reese? Hot flashes? Will i start buying tussy in bulk? I mean really. Where will it end? This is some next level egregiousness. I'm grinning and bearing but best believe its a whole lot more bearing than grinning going on.

So.

Other than my hairy situation -pun totally intended - I had a rather good weekend. It was excellent actually. I won't bore yall with details but i am happy to say i got some sun which i desperately needed because i was looking like the pale rider. My complexion was grossing me out. Thank goodness i tan and don't burn.

How was yalls weekend?

Also i've been slacking with my blog lately. I don't know if its that i've been too tired or too busy too write. Maybe a mixture of the two. I was thinking of vlogging, because i could record my thoughts just as fast as i think them - yall don't know how often i'll be typing and by the time i get to my next sentence i've forgotten what i was about to say - but then i realized that i pretty much hate my hearing my recorded voice. Plus i'd probably be all cindy brady staring at the red dot and looking like an idiot. And now with the chin hair issue...yeah. That'd be all wrong.