Growing Older, But Definitely Not Growing Up

I don’t know what is happening to me.

It’s like ever since I hit my 27th year, my body is telling me to fuck off.

I can’t skip a day when it comes to washing my hair anymore. If I do my roots get greasier than an oilslick underneath an ‘82 Chevy Silverado. But of course the more I wash it, the bigger the halo of frizz that graces the crown of my head. (Because, as I’ve recently discovered, if I don’t blow it dry, it decides to wave up all on its own. SINCE WHEN? Not when I wanted wavy hair, of course!) Doesn’t matter how much I spend on hair products either. Just makes it greasier.

Don’t get me started on facial hair. I mean, I am Italian, so I accepted the fact that I needed to start shaving my legs at the age of 10, waxing the brows at 13, and that my brother and I would both be trimming our “mustaches” at the same time in the bathroom mirror on occassion. But seriously? When did the brows start creeping up my fucking forehead? It seems like I have to position the tweezers closer and closer to my damn hairline every day.

Not to mention the horrific discovery of a giant black hair coming out of my fucking neck one day. And the fact that my mother pointed it out to me. (I mean, shit, we only have each other, so I sure as hell am not going to let her leave the house with lipstick on her teeth and I expect her to look out for me as well.)

WHAT THE FUCK.

My skin has gone from normal-to-oily to “Here Ma, let me just smear my face all over that fry pan you’re about to cook sausage and peppers in, you won’t need any olive oil!” Doesn’t matter how much I spend on skincare products either, and I guess I’ll be saving money now that I don’t need to moisturize anymore. Thank God I never had/don’t have an issue with acne.

The change in seasons is forging a major assault on my senses as well. My sinuses hurt, and I cannot, cannot drink enough water because all the natural moisture in my body is going straight to my face. (But, and I’m sure this is TMI, I have no problem down there, thank God.)

All I can say is thank God my tits are still where they’re supposed to be. The day I discover my belly button between them is the day I think I’ll just throw my hands up and say, “Well, I had a good run!” And proceed to slit my fucking wrists.

If you made it through this post kudos to you, if you care, even more awesome. But I AM bitching and just may continue to do so because why? Because I can. I’ve been through enough bullshit in my life to be thankful that at this point, aside from the massive amount of debt I’m in and the fact that I have no savings starting to gain interest in any kind of bank account, my biggest concern is painfully dry sinuses, frizzy hair, and oily skin. But hey, I still manage to look like a million bucks every day, even if I’ve only got $5 in my pocket.