GAWD I had a day. I was so depeche this morning I couldn’t get the gumption up to shower. So instead I put on this crazy shirt that’s so bright and seizure-inducing…and did a Gwen Stefani bump in my greasy hair…and put on more mascara on top of the mascara I slept in last night…and put on SUPER bright lipstick and headed to the new gulag. I did all those things to take the eye AWAY from the greasy hair and day-old mascara. Optical illuuuuuusion, see?
And today I had three separate people say the same thing to me…randomly and at different times: “HEY, BEAUTIFUL!”
Um? What? So long story short: GO BUY THE MANGA MASCARA AND THE BITE LIPSTICK AND DON’T SHOWER AND HAVE A VAGUE HAZE OF WORK-DREAD, STRESS AND A SOUPÇON OF BITTERNESS ABOUT YOUR PERSON….it’s my #1 beauty tip!!
My hair. It’s looking like Donald Trump lately. Fried in a goddamn pan. I think it’s time to say goodbye to the long locks of the 1980s and embrace my short hair again. It was a fun ride, but I look like I’m wearing someone’s 1947 dry corn broom on my head. It’s a sad state of affairs. Even my $5 Alberto VO5 Hot Oil Treatment couldn’t rescue the fright wig I call a hair-do! Be prepared for a new ‘do and pictures next week.
Oh me. One more week at current job from hell. Every single hour of every day I’m more glad I’m leaving…
What else? We’re moving soon.
Ok. I’m going to go moke a cigarrest and drink a beer. And take my bra off. I was so tired last night I slept in my clothes, including my brassiere. Then rolled my carcass out of bed and threw on clothes and headed out again. My bra may be fused to my hide.
AND PS, don’t comment and remind me of my perspective posts via HONY on the Facebook. I know I’m being ridiculous. Insane ranting is my coping mechanism. If it’s not your jam, that’s fine. Go read a positivity blog.