I Have A Wrinkle

Oh, boy. Here we go...

I know what you're thinking:

Why is this lunatic (You do know I'm a lunatic, right?) worried about one wrinkle? Isn't she almost 40? Fuck her!

Look, I understand how this sounds. It's not like I have NO wrinkles, but they are specific to the faces I make. So, when I laugh the laugh lines appear and when I'm not laughing they go away.

This wrinkle? This wrinkle is threatening to implant itself in my face and stay around no matter what I do with my facial skin.

I don't like this at all.

Why God, whhhyyyyyyy?! I'm too young for permanent face folds!!

The only reason I noticed it, is the giant zit I've had in between my eyebrows for the past week. I'm a little bit OCD, so I simply cannot leave a zit alone. I have to make it go away. Hence, I've been examining my between-brows area in detail for DAYS.

A couple of days ago I saw the weird line. What's that? I thought innocently. I pulled my forehead back, it was still there. I made my face expressionless, it was STILL there. Then I went the other way, I did this:





And there IT was! My permanent scowl/knit eyebrow wrinkle! Yeah! Aging is SO, SO AWESOME!

I mean, what the hell, people? I don't make this face on a regular basis. Maybe when I yawn. Maybe when I sneeze. I'm not doing any of that crap 24/7.

Is this what it's going to be like from now on? Everyday I'll wake up with a new wrinkle that makes no sense for my life, you know, just because?

I've been inundating the area with lotion and mild exfoliating treatments...No dice, y'all. It's STILL FUCKING THERE.

Oh, well. It's AGING or DEATH, right?

Also? Stay out of the sun:

A Question For The Ladies

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Do any of you stare at your boobs forlornly and then pull or push them up higher with your hands as you imagine your faded youth and the even saggier boobs to come?

Alright, fine. Don't participate! But, you know what? I've been doing that after almost every bath or shower and sometimes when I'm just changing my clothes.

I think it's mostly because this new boob low was reached just a few months ago. Actually, I had just gotten used to the previous hang level when I looked down in the bath one day and thought Oh, OK...I guess this is where they like to be now...Oh, well...

This is going to sound extreme, but the aging process does appear to be a bit like a car wreck. There's no schedule to the atrocities and when you pass a new tangle of twisted metal and confused passengers you are absolutely horrified. And yet, you cannot look away.

I'm not loosing sleep over these things: the increased ear wax, pendulous breasts, odd smells, gray facial hairs, memory loss or preponderance of whiskers. I'm just ready to feel less like I'm in free-fall. You know?

Happy Friday: Basically...

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Apparently, when you begin going gray, any and all hairs on your body are up for grabs. After getting side-swiped with a silvery eyebrow hair earlier this year, I now have another pale demon to contend with:

A GRAY MUSTACHE HAIR!

I swear to FUCK, you guys! It's bad enough that I have to deal with upper-lip facial fuzz, but now that shit is turning white on me? Insane in my membrane!!

Oh well, here I go, fighting nature again. Let's get to some linkage!

1) If you like Mindy Kaling (and if you like The Office, then you do) you might enjoy hearing about her new book and website.

2) Oprah's teaching the world again. This time she's using case studies from her old episodes to try to help folks live better day-to-day. I signed up months ago and then totally forgot about it, I'll get to it eventually!

3) Need more help making your life better? Try these other online resources.

4) Anyone interested in glam shots of African-American icons of the past should head here and learn some stuff.

That's all for now, friends! Enjoy your weekend!

Clearly, I'm Worried About My Boobs

Here

Isn't it funny how our minds work? For the past couple of weeks I've been having a very brief recurring dream: I'm right out of the shower and looking down at my breasts. They are pitiful. Completely deflated, lying flat against my chest and as droopy as the day is long. It's a short, unattractive sight...And then the dream is over.

I just had the dream again last night, and I have to say, I had no idea I was worried enough about my boobies to have dreams about them. A quick Google of "sagging breast dreams" turned up meanings that made no sense for my life at all.

Is it possible I just need to do more wall push-ups and wear sturdier bras during my down time? It's. Possible.

What do you keep dreaming about that you didn't realize was that big of a deal to you?

Consumer Warning: Useless Brassieres!

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You know, we really should have known better. And by 'we' I mean me and about half of the women in my immediate family.

Imagine the scene: It was after midnight on a steamy Monday morning it late July. We all knew we should be heading for sleepy time, but decided to take one last click around the TV dial before lights out. What did we find? A segment on HSN promising a four-pack of comfortable yet supportive bras for even the biggest busted of us: the Ahh Bra. Oh, my. We are awake now.

I called my mom. What? Why did I call my mom? Because I wear a 40DD. Do you know how hard it is to find a bra that'll hoist my ladies appropriately and still feel all-day-long comfy? I'll tell you: IT'S IMPOSSIBLE.

I needed to see if she saw it too, or if it was just a late night/early morning mirage; this magical bazoom master. PT saw it, and she was, like me, enthused but leery. After an hour of watching HSN models of varying bustage parading in front of us, we broke down. I went to my laptop and ordered a pack for each of us.

A week later, I had the much-lauded mammary manager in my hot little hands. And you know what? They were extremely comfortable and it was impossible to tell I was wearing a bra without looking down. Also? If you were looking at me, you wouldn't have been able to tell I was wearing a bra either, since my nipples still pointed south as I wore the thing.

I took PT her set to see what she thought, having already decided to return mine. The results were even worse for my poor mom: the bras smashed her boobies into a lumpy uni-boob.

And with that, WE WERE DONE!

So, lesson learned, my people! We listened to all those rabid fans who called in that night and paid no attention to the customer rating on the HSN website, which is only 2.4 stars out of five. Reading the reviews I can see the Ahh Bra is either love it or hate it. And while we didn't hate it we didn't love that shit either. I've already got plenty of bras that feel good but don't hold worth a damn. I don't need to spend 50 bucks on more of those.

Has anyone out there found a good, comfortable bra?

I Guess What They Say Is True

I've been reorganizing our bookshelves for about a month now, trying to get us down to three in an effort to reduce the amount of crap in our former sitting area. Today while I was cleaning off a long-neglected shelf I came upon some headshots I took in '99 while I was trying to be an actor.



Long story short? I was hot! But, of course, at the time I had no idea I looked even remotely presentable. I doubt I was even wearing makeup (except for lipstick), 'cause I didn't really futz with the stuff back then. The old adage is right, we don't know what we've got 'til it's gone. (Not that I'm some hideous troll woman now. I just mean that it would be nice to have that thin face - and body - again. Ya know?)

What do you wish you had appreciated about yourself when you were younger?

Tuesday Tipday: Unnecessary Eyebrow Bullshit

I hope everyone had an awesome, warm weather filled weekend, because I have something very important to discuss with you.

You know, I try very hard to keep up with all the personal maintenance things that come up: cleaning the ear wax, mining the nose, keeping the teeth pearly, removing random whiskers, making sure my mustache fuzz doesn't make me look like a lazy transvestite...But this one really caught me off guard last night.

I was getting ready for bed and decided to clean up my eyebrows a bit. So, I'm plucking away and got something in the tweezers that I thought was lint or Tux fluff, because it was white. It was not lint. It was...wait for the horror...A GRAY EYEBROW HAIR.

What?! Just...Huh?

I mean...You know?

I'm only 36!!

Holy...Holy Damn Hell Fuck Shits!!

We know what's next, right? Gray nose hairs and then gray whiskers and then...A gray coochie. Oh, God yes! I cannot wait for the gray coochie!! That will be a banner day, y'all!!! And while I'm yelling in print, what's with the English language allowing two different spellings for gray/grey?!?! We needs rules, English Language! They keep us from devolving into anarchy!!

*sigh*

I was seconds away from shaving those betraying bastards off and going full-on Crawford by just drawing that shit in, when I calmed down.

I found some things online about gray eyebrow pencils and general info for looking good with gray hair. But lets all make note of my Tip: pluck the hell outta that shit! Unless you realize you have 120 eyebrow hairs and now 90 of them are gray, just get rid of it. Especially if your head, nose and sweet lady parts are mostly non-gray.

I feel better now. Go, my pretties! Enjoy your gray-free brows! Fly! Fly!!!