Sunday, October 21, 2012

No I'm sorry, that's not MY mustache.

As a kid I remember walking into my mom's bedroom and seeing her in the bathroom with this white cream on her upper lip. I asked her what it was and she replied "old age". I just scrunched up my face thinking how weird and not really understanding what she was doing and how boring, not fun and silly it looked.

Now fast forward a few years (ok decades) to me sitting in the exam room at my dentists office. One of my wisdom teeth has been bothering me so they took some pictures and some x-rays to check everything out. I was already feeling uncomfortable as it was. Not because of my tooth but because of all the pictures. I hate having my picture taken with a true passion. My sister says getting a picture of me is like getting a picture of Sasquatch. Plus this was a new dentist and I swear he must have been straight from the dental school a la Doogie Howser. Hope he knows what he's talking about.

After my pictures were taken the Dentist comes in and looks at the pictures with me. He's showing me how my teeth look and talking to me about my wisdom teeth. But I can't hear him. I'm not even sure what he's saying really. All I can focus on is. that. hair. above. my. lip. That can't be right. That's not my picture. And that is definitely NOT my mustache. I have peach fuzz and and and...crap. When the heck did this happen anyway? This isn't very lady like. I'm not supposed to get things like this. Wait. Does the Dentist notice it? What about the Dental Assistant? Does she notice it? Of course she does. She's a girl and girls notice everything. Double crap. Can't a girl catch a break anymore? I mean really. I wonder if the man ever noticed it and didn't say anything. So what do I do now? Am I supposed to go to the salon and ask for wax? I certainly can't go to the store and buy wax myself. How on earth does one get the courage to rip out hair in such a manor? Ouch! And when I go to the salon are they gentle about it? Probably not. I can only imagine that they enjoy bringing on this pain as their own stress release. Kinda like a stress ball.

And then I think about something else...

Doesn't hair grow back thicker and darker once removed? Apparently a girl really can't catch a break. Ever. They say beauty is pain. Well I don't know who "they" is, but I think I hate them. I don't want pain. I also don't want a mustache. Well I guess I'm off to take care of this thing. Until next time...

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