Monday, November 25, 2013

Full Disclosure

Did I ever tell you about the time that TJ, Peter, our PCA and I were waiting at the Toys R Us Customer Service desk?

We were waiting to see if they had a Power Ranger Megazord that TJ wanted to spend his gift card on.  He was all keyed up and excited.  There was a crowd of people at the desk waiting behind us to be helped.  You could feel the tension rise off of them as the Toys R Us-er looked up our toy on their system to see if they had it in stock.  It was taking a long time and their impatience was palpable.  Suddenly TJ says to me, REALLY LOUDLY as he has no volume control, "Mom, you have a mustache.  You'd better not grow a beard too."


My PCA and I could not control our laughter.  Tears streamed down our faces.  My stomach hurt from laughing so much and it could not be stopped.  Even thinking about it now makes me laugh.

Well, not right now.

Y'see, he is right.  I've always had a little 'stache.  Embarrassing but true.  Most of those little hairs are blond and fine but clearly there are enough darker ones to warrant such a comment from my ever-observant no-filtered child with autism. 

In boarding school I used to Jolene it.  Bleach the hell out of the thing.  It's the kind of boarding school thing you would do in groups of two or more - apply bleach and hang out together and laugh while you waited for it to work.  Truly a bonding thing.

A couple of years ago we had a girls' trip to our friend's house in NH.  During a Target run we all bought mini electric shavers.  Standing in our friend's hallway by the mirror we all trimmed our eyebrows and such...I shaved the 'stache.  Again, bonding. 

Part of the glory that is recovery from pulmonary emboli has been not being able to shave.  God forbid I cut myself while on blood thinners - I'd bleed out in no time at all.  So Sean the Dreamboat brought home an electric shaver with Epilatory functionality.  I don't think that's a word but let's just say it is now, shall we?  Basically it grabs each little hair and rips is out by the root.  It feels like tiny needles poking your skin until the hair is removed.  You know the hairs are gone when it doesn't hurt.  Basically it's one of the many torture devices designed for us women to make us feel beautiful and humiliate us as the same time. 

Anyway, it works, but really hurts like a bitch.  So now that I'm off the blood thinners I can shave again.  Problem is, in a few days it's as if I never shaved at all, and I have to do it again.  I am way too lazy for this.  So this morning I busted out the electric epilator.  Pits, check.  Legs, check.  It really does the trick and lasts much longer, even though it hurts. 

Then brilliance struck.  Why not epilate my face?  I looked through the attachments for a smaller piece appropriate for faces.  Nothing. 

This is when most people would realize that maybe that is a clue that you are not supposed to epilate your face.  I am not most people.

Onward I forge.  Leg and pit hairs cleaned out, I'm ready to go.  Was that TMI?  Eh - it's too late now.

I start with the 'stache.  Ohmygod ow ow ow ow ow.  Tears spring into my eyes immediately but I'm way too bad-ass to stop now.  Little drops of blood appear where little hairs once stood.  Onward ho.  'Stache is done, and really red, but it's too late to stop now.

Chin, lower lip area, left side of face, ow ow ow ow ow, check.  On to the right.

Suddenly, the epilator GRABS MY FACE and rolls some of my cheek into it's roll-y contraption of agony!!!  HOLY OWNESS!!!!

I stop to see a red mark getting redder.  Not bleeding, but it definitely stands out.

Now this is when most people would stop and put the torture device away, right?  No, not me.  I'm almost done, I can't quit now!

Long story short (too late), it grabs my face two more times on that same right side before I finish and put the motherplucking device away. 

I have 3 angular red marks, kind of like the letter "Z" but they are not touching each other.

I also have make up.  Thank god.  It covers up quite nicely.

And my face is as smooth as a baby's ass.

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