It's all over.
2002-11-18 at 3:31 p.m.

 

That's it. I can't take this getting old thing anymore.

I was just in the lift at work. They have big mirrors in the lifts at work. Mirrors are generally bad. Mirrors that show me that I have a big-old-wiry-old-person hair growing out of my chin are even worse.

All I need is for a wart to grow and I'm going to look like witchy-poo.

Is this what's going to happen to me now? I don't mind the lines. They add funky character to my face. They make me look experienced and people are going to have to start taking me seriously. But big funky hairs. Bad, bad, bad, bad.

I've never had tweezers before, I'm going to have to go shopping. Damn. I wonder how long it's been there. Maybe for days people have been looking at me while I'm talking and all they are thinking is 'Look at that HAIR. Does she not know it's there? Should I tell her? Damn, what did she just say? I'll just make agreeable noises and hope she doesn’t notice I’m staring at it.'

Did I mention this was bad?

Hmmm. All this time I thought I was above all this girly stuff. But wiry man hair on my face. I've come over all faint and I'm going to have to go for a lie down. Eek.