Dear Lynn
Terrible photo taken with phone camera - forgive me blogging gods!
So the psychologist called it delayed grief - and once it was named I began to feel better. Last year anger. This year grief. Next year acceptance?
On to matters more prosaic - and very irritating, as I progress through my forties. What on earth did I do wrong in a past life to deserve to be part of a circus as a bearded lady? I was smooth skinned until the babies came along. Other than for the scar on my chin earned whilst jumping in my sleeping bag down a slippery hall with the zip zipped up thus ensuring I could not use my hands to stop my fall when I tripped on a nail. Whilst attending a Catholic school girl retreat outside Kingaroy in the depths of Queensland.
Anyway the babies came along and the chin began sprouting hair. Just the odd one at first. Now it is an infestation. Which requires regular waxing to keep it under control.
Oh the glamour.
I certainly did not foresee that 20 years ago, or ten or even five years ago.
It absolutely and completely dements me.
Love
Mary
I'm sorry, I had a perfectly serious comment to leave about the first part of your post but now I'm laughing so hard at the last bit I'm struggling to find the original thought!
ReplyDelete(Actually, it was about the benefit of finding a name and then finding ways to deal with stuff. I used to have these terrible thoughts that would hit me physically. They were incredibly hard to describe but then someone told me to think of them as intrusions. That is exactly what they were because they appeared often out of nowhere. After giving them an identity, they seemed to lessen. I'm so glad you're working your way through)
T x
The chin thing?
ReplyDeleteI totally hear ya.
It dements me too. I would rescue my tweezers from a burning house.
You're a breathe of fresh air!
ReplyDeleteThankyou for sharing the light & shadow of your journey and I look forward to hearing more of what Lynn and Mary have to say.
Loving this blog,
ReplyDeleteyours sincerely
another 47-year-old
I used to love that word, now it always makes me think of The Castle.
ReplyDeleteGrief is a sneaky companion, lurking in corners and appearing when you least expect him. Keep an eye on him and you'll be fine. Almost 6yrs after my father's death I still find myself suddenly tearful at silly things like tv shows that my dad would have loved but never got to enjoy. There's not much sillier than that, is there?
And I just turned 36 and chin-hair has been a constant feature for at least 5yrs. There's no justice!
xx
I don't get chin hair (I'm only 46, after all) but I do get
ReplyDelete*whispers*
nipple hair. I feel like a witch when I pluck them.
I can't believe I just put that on the internet. Just pretend it was Anonymous.
The chin hair... I sprouted my fist in my 20s. Why does it get thicker on our faces, but thinner on our heads. It's hard being a girl.
ReplyDeleteI've got a witchy hair on a face mole, too. I absentmindedly play with it while I'm listening to clients. I think it makes me look wise.
ReplyDeleteJust wait until the moustache starts to sprout!
ReplyDeleteOh god you are all too funny!
ReplyDeleteI'm not 47 yet.
But in 2 weeks I will be. :(
Hi, I'm Aunty Evil, and I too have chin hair.
No longer my shameful little secret.
The worst part about it is that I never knew how bad I had it until I bought one of those 5x magnifying mirrors. My sister (who is also a sufferer) insisted. I hate her for it.