Yesterday started off great. The kids got to the bus stop on time. I had showered and actually put on real clothes by 9:00 am, instead of the usual 1:30 pm. By 10:00, I was in my car on the way to drop off the little one with a friend for the day. I was shampooing carpets and she would have been in the way and scared of the noise. I was also going to have lunch with my daughter at school. It was looking to be a great day. A day to myself (even if it was to clean) and the weather was gorgeous. I felt better than I had in days.
I flipped down the vanity mirror to put on some lip gloss. And then I saw it–the most horrific, mind-blowing monstrosity I’d ever seen. I had a 1/2-inch long BLACK hair protruding from underneath my chin. I was growing a beard.
I screamed. It was disgusting. How long had it been there? Had anyone seen it? Would there be others? Would I have to start shaving? What if another one grew and it was (gulp) gray? I grabbed it between my fingernails and yanked the sucker out of there. Then I examined my upper lip, my chin, my neck, my nose, and my ears for any sign of another one. There was nothing. Yet.
I suddenly felt old and disgusting and the day wasn’t so bright and cheery anymore. An errant hair had ruined my day.
Did I mention my birthday is coming up in two weeks? Ay caramba.