MY HAIR IS WEIRD.
When I was in high school, I had long curly hair. BIG curly hair. I was called Roseanne Roseannadanna on more than one occasion.
hair regiment now and I'm hoping that it's going to work better than wringing my hands and buying Drano.
|Help me, Paul Mitchell. You're my only hope.|
ACNE AGAIN?!? AND WHAT ARE THESE LINES?!?
There is a picture of me waiting for the bus to go to a band trip from my freshman year. My hair is in a french braid and I'm in my flag corps warm-up suit. I'm with a friend and smiling. I also have SEVERE acne all over my face. I look at that photo and cringe. Then I look in the mirror and cringe more. Hello, acne! Haven't seen you in a while! I had to go on prescription medicine the last time it was this bad. I truly thought I was done with being embarrassed to go out because blackheads had invaded my nose like tiny irritable Visigoths in the night guarded by two whiteheads on either side. My first reaction to these facial impurities was to go and get the same thing I used in high school.
|Clean and Clear and makes you sing Waterfalls by TLC.|
Then I realized that I was fighting more than angry Visigoths. The high school face wash made my face look a little better but I was still getting...wrinkly. I began to look at night creams for my baggy eyelids. I never go out without some sort of sunscreen built into my makeup or moisturizer.
I know what retinol is, people.
MY BODY IS CHANGING
Remember in 5th grade when they split us up into boys and girls and made us watch The Movie? You know, the one that was horribly out of date and told us how we were not going to die every month and that hair was going to start coming in various places? Did they mention "special feelings" in the boys video? I still can't find a guy to break the code of silence surrounding that mysterious video.
After babies, my body is changing again. Carrying three monsters has left my hips wider and I don't think there are any gym machines to actually change my bone structure. I carried Gideon sideways for quite some time and he's responsible for most of that damage along with the only damage to my hoohah that I sustained in three births.
(Someone pick Mom up off of the floor.)
I've joined a gym and I'm still trying to watch what I eat. The pounds are coming off but I just look different. There's a pooch in the front that I don't think will ever go away without plastic surgery. My back hurts enough that I'm considering a visit to a good chiropractor. I can't eat a box of Pop Tarts in one sitting and lose it the next day in a marching band session. I gain weight by driving by bakeries. My cycle is wonky again like I'm a newbie. I saw a girl wearing white capris and I sighed with jealousy because I just can't do that. Luckily the special feelings are back in force and now I have a husband instead of just my imagination.
(Go pick Mom up again.)
My hair, my face and my body are no longer my own. The 20's were good while they lasted. 33 is by no means old but it's looking forward that makes me want to take care of this vessel. I may never wear cutoffs and a tank top to Edgefest again but I can eat ice cream for breakfast now. Growing up isn't so bad.