i have this patch of hair. it grows in the opposite direction of the rest of my hair. and it’s annoying as hell.

of course it’s right at my hairline too.

right here…

pay NO ATTENTION to the dark circles under my eyes as i have no makeup on. your focus should be on the strange hair patch.

and sure, i’ve parted my hair to that side so that it goes in the same direction as the little patch that irritates me EVERY SINGLE DAMN DAY, but ya know what?

i don’t like parting my hair that way. it just doesn’t feel right. so there hair patch.

THERE.

i also found a grey eyebrow hair a few weeks ago. this was NOT fun.

i had been tweezing because i am at the point where my eyebrow chick has raised her prices and i can no longer afford both her and my hair stylist and quite frankly, styling the hair on my head is of more importance to me than the hair that grows above my eyes.

so the bitch raises her prices and i have since been tweezing.

i know. you’re not “supposed to” tweeze unless you actually know what you’re doing… especially when you have tarantula eyebrows like mine (see above picture if you didn’t get a good look the first go-round.)

whatever, so i am tweezing and growing accustomed to sneezing while doing so because for some reason i always sneeze as i tweeze.

back to the grey eyebrow hair… so i found that…

and then two weeks ago, mom was here and rubbing my head because i was being a baby after putting my own baby to sleep and SHE FOUND A GREY HAIR ON MY HEAD.

LIKE ON MY HEAD.

WTF is that?!?!? i mean really… what is that about?!?!?

i won’t even be 29 until may. c’mon now.

sometimes i wish 30 would just get here so i could say that i’m “in my thirties” because other moms ask my age and it’s occasionally awkward.

i mean, i won a gift bag the other night at a get-together i went to because i was the youngest there.

but the gift bag was cool and has free tickets to a kiddie thing that i get to take jackson to, so that was nice.

it also included 2 hershey bars.

i only ate 1 but that’s because paul stole the other, or else i would’ve eaten that one as well.

and not felt guilty about it.

one of my fave english professors in grad school told me that i needed to write every day.

at some point of EVERY DAY i needed to write in order to become a “good” writer.

WTF is that?!?!

some days, i don’t write.

some days, i read.

THE HORROR!!!

but, this tidbit of knowledge that my professor bestowed upon me did not keep me from torturing my own middle schoolers that i taught for two years.

oh yes, there was designated journal time.

and oh yes, they had to write until i told them to stop… even if it meant writing, “Mrs. White is making me write something and I have nothing to write about and when I have nothing to write about it makes me angry, kinda like the other night when Haley told me that she would meet me at the movies and then texted me that she was going to go to the movies with Jared instead. Yeah, that pissed me off.”

the rant would continue, as you can imagine, and it was those students who ended up groaning when i called “TIME” because they wanted to finish their journal entry.

i’m sure they thought “WTF is that?!?!”

cuz, ya know… i WANTED them to write.

they probably still wonder that now.

no, they probably have moved on to their high school dramas and smoking and making out in the back seat of cars and cool things like that.

i wanna make out in the back seat of a car again.

that was hot.

i wonder if i get no action in the back seat of the car anymore because of my weird hair patch…

no, it’s probably because i am very rarely in a car without my son.

and the backseat of it is filled with a lazy-boy recliner of a car seat, chewed up toys either from my son or the dog or both, and empty drive-thru cups that paul likes to leave under the seat of my car but they always end up rolling around the floor and then i find them and get mad.

oh yeah, and my car is a VW hatchback.

and my husband is 6’6″ and wouldn’t fit in the backseat.

he, on the other hand drives a tahoe…

i mean, the word “ho” is in the name of his damn car.

HELLO!!!!!!!!!!

let’s make out in the back seat.

but then he probably looks at my weird hair patch and thinks, “WTF is that?!?!”