stuff

All week long I’ve been in this terrible dilemma about whether or not I’m too old for blue eyeshadow. The real issue is that I don’t want to deal with the contract stuff that is going on at work, so instead of worrying about hundreds of people and their jobs and thousands of people and their horrid parenting skills and ten thousand bad kids I worry about the possibility of someone pointing and laughing at me because I’m a 32 year old whack job with garishly decorated eye lids.

And they would totally notice because 1) doesn’t everyone notice me and everything about me? and 2) I often have my eyes closed while in hysterics over something that someone else is wearing/doing and my entire blue lid will be exposed to the masses.

And then there is the decision whether to go to my girl at the MAC store and have her custom pick some blue for me or just take a $7 stab next time I go to the CVS at some sort of Maybelline junk (maybe she’s born with contusions on her eyes, maybe it’s Maybelline).

Have you ever stepped back and noticed how incredibly hard it is to be me?

I know, right?

Then I got a phone call this evening from a doctor who likes to periodically remove portions of my reproductive organs and bring them home to her family because they taste really good (or something. She never gives them back, in any case) and she says based on the small amount she took a few weeks ago it looks like she needs to take more out so I don’t curl up and die any time soon and I was all like, “fuck if I care what your mom thinks about my blue eye makeup. I’m getting some of the expensive shit first thing tomorrow morning and I’m wearing it dammit because it looks really awesome with short red hair and hazel green eyes”.

And then I got a little sappy because the worst thing in my life right now is that I get a little bit of bad news because I have amazing health care and the luxury of all types of screenings that actually work to detect the smallest changes in cells that lie deep inside my body and the technology is available to remove them as often as possible in order for me to stay healthy so I can take care of my little boy who thinks I’m the prettiest, funniest, smartest girl in the whole world and who tells me I’m his best friend at least twenty times a day.

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