...you ain't got no alibi (everybody sing it with me, now. Go ahead cup your hands around your mouth and yell.) YOU UGLY, yeah, yeah, YOU UGLY.
I figure that I've spent enough damn time being cute around here, at least enough that I can be brutally honest up in here. It's my damn page, right? That's what I fucking figure. I'd say that I'm fucking paying for it, but then that would make me UGLY and a LIAR, and we just can't have that in blog land.
Didja ever wonder why they say women who are on the pill shouldn't expose their faces to sunlight? No? Well, I am a living, breathing, walking example of why not. And if you think I'm going to put a picture up for y'all and everybody to point and laugh at, you are out of your damn minds, that's what. But I will humiliate myself through writing, so maybe you can get a mental picture of my sour little frown. I have a tan mustache, people! Make-up doesn't cover it. Powder, foundation, cover-up, all that shit - 45 minutes and some Mary Kay spackle later, I look like Frida fucking Kahlo, minus the unibrow. AND I AM NOT EXAGGERATING, CHAD! And don't you dare think that it is hair. IT. IS. NOT. If I could've waxed that shit off, don't you think I would've figured it out by now? And to add to this lovely little spectacle, there is now a thumb-sized swipe on the left side along my jaw line, which is also tan. As in, doesn't rub off with Momma's repeated spit and finger cleanings. Now ain't that a bitch?
I strongly believe that you reap what you sow, and had I sat my stupid ass out in the sun all day with an uncovered face, you would hear from me not a peep! NOT! ONE! MOTHERFUCKING PEEP! I wore SPF 30 on my face which I religiously reapplied and covered with not only sunglasses, but also a large, floppy, blue hat. Fashion Police BE DAMNED. And this is what I end up with. Kicker of a thing is that I'm not even on the pill anymore (Can we broadcast that over the loudspeaker please? I don't think Momma, Daddy, and the rest of my family heard that) , therefore, I should be exempt from this UGLINESS!
Apologies for being so exceedingly female. Maybe if people didn't put such an emphasis on looks, I wouldn't give two hoots about my pseudo mustache and thumb swipe. As it is, I'm dipping my face in Clorox as we speak. Maybe I'll look like Powder when this is all over and done with. Remember that kid? Would you still love me then, Chad? If I looked like Powder? Grumble, grumble. I told you I was losing my damn mind over here!
Holy moly girl.
Bic wont work with all you're hair. You'll need to chop it off with a knife first then clipper it.
I didn't have that problem though with the bc pills and sun though.
You have a tan mustache?
(Have you ever seen Monty Python's flying circus? They do a great skit with a bunch of guys sitting around a table sharing horror stories about their lives, always punctuated with things like... "You had WATER?! You were LUCKY!"
So again I start...
You have a tan mustache? You're LUCKY!
Ha! I can totally sympathize. One summer, on the pill, I not only was in the sun more than I'd planned over the course of a week but I was also regularly hitching a ride on the back of a motorcycle.
Not only did I get a HUGE red speckly rash all over my face AND my neck and chest, but in addition to that my face SWELLED UP!
Remember the movie "Mask?" Okay. Take the red hair off but leave the oddly distorted swelled up facial features, and that was me.
Thank you, Ortho Novum!
And yes, how could Chad NOT love you? You are, clearly, The Perfect Wife!