yeah, yeah, yeah. it's cute when you're a kid.it's 9 am and i'm sitting here sipping a hazelnut coffee trying to keep my giant fuzzy white mustache from slipping into my java.
no, not taking hormones, i'm bleaching my 'stache a.k.a femustache, and my eyes are watering from the fumes.
why the early morning torture? i'm going to visit my aunt and grandmother down in baltimore tonight.
now, i know they love me unconditionally, but loving me unconditionally does not, apparently, extend to the slight shadow on my upper lip and my calloused, un-pedicured feet. The Feet are always mentioned on my visit, if they manage to catch a glimpse. if they're pedicured and polished and pretty, it's as if i've won the Nobel Peace Prize:
wow! your feet look really nice. did you do that yourself? look at her feet, grandma. don't they look pretty? she got a pedicure.
i try to fight the urge to pant and drool, wag my ass and bark.
if they are not pedicured and polished and pretty, they try to arrange for me to get a pedicure while i'm there, in what they think is a sly, stealthy way:
oh, you know, margrocks, your cousin c. just happens to be going to get a pedicure. do you want to go? i mean, you don't have to, but you could. we're not really doing anything around here, it might be fun. here, here's some money.
they forget. i'm the actress.
i could fight it. i could not bleach the 'stache out of defiance. it's really not that bad anyway. if i just kept out of the direct sunlight, they'd never even notice, but what the hey. i present so many challenges to them in accepting who i am - a liberal, new yorkified, single and unmarried 30 year old woman who doesn't clean - i figure i can concede the 'stache bleaching. no go on the pedicure this time though. no time. so i guess i'm keepin' the socks on all weekend.
have a great weekend, gotta go shave.
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an article in favor of a female five o'clock shadow.
a radio show in favor of the female five o'clock shadow.
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