I Think I'm Going Crazy...

...or at least, to anyone listening (and thankfully, there's NO ONE!) I'm not only going crazy, but BAT SHIT crazy is more to the point!
See, all my life I've had a habit of sounding more like a TRUCKER when faced with the inevitable side effects of 'aging'.

How's that you say? Allow me to explain...

As a young girl, when I first discovered there was HAIR growing in places I didn't want it, I said, in a hushed voice, but nonetheless out LOUD (enough so I heard myself anyway...) DAMN IT! (yes, I was probably 8 or 10 or so...)

Then when I first got my period, same deal... walking home from school, friend behind me states, as loud as can be, "Hey Amy, you sat in something cuz you got red all over your skirt!" What do I reply? "AWWW SHIT!"

Fast forward to high school (let's not stay there long, even just the mention of it makes parts of me shiver in a BAD way!) I had spent my life listening to people say how 'lucky I was to have such a pretty 'beauty mark' (aka:MOLE) on my cheek, blah blah blah. (old Italian relatives' opinions DON'T COUNT, they're family thus required to say shit like that...) I was in class one day, who knows what class, who cared, they all sucked the same (except for creative writing, public speaking & art... shocker huh?) and I hear one of the 'kewl' kids behind me refer to me as "MW."
Hmmm, funny, my initials are A.S., wonder what she's talkin about?

Next day, same deal... "Hey, MW, what's UP?"
*puzzled look* as 'kewl kids' just walk away laughing.

Still not impressed. Fact is, I outweigh most of them & piss me off one more time girlies & shit's goin' DOWN! (and by shit, I mean YOU and by DOWN I mean, MY ASS IS GONNA SIT ON YA!)

Finally Friday comes, last period, 'study hall' (and by study hall, we all know I mean NAP time...) and again, stupid douche comes up to me with that fake ass "I'm mean cuz I don't have any real attributes to distinguish me from the pack as a normal human being or even remotely like able, so I'll just be a bitch cuz these people I call my 'friends' seem to like it that I'm the meanest one & they get to follow me, they're clearly as stupid if not more so, than me...) & says to me, "Hey MW, what's on for the weekend? Any KILLER plans?" *more laughter*

I finally asked her, "I'm sorry Bouche, (yes, I said Bouche, she wasn't clever enough to even know that I was using the 'CODE' on her ass...) but what exactly is MW, cuz you know those aren't my initials, right? *more laughter from the Bouche...*
Oh, we know, we just thought we'd give you a really killer nickname!
*amused at this point & even though I know I shouldn't, I did* "Oh really? And that would be?"

"MOLE WOMAN!" *fits of laughter out of Bouche & her minions...*

"Ah, I see... well Bouche, that's all fun & dandy, but truth be told, I'd have pegged you for coming up with something a tad bit more clever than that... but hey, if your Bouchey Dag little brain came up with MW, then you rock on with your bad self sistah..."

*minute or two elapse & Bouche turns to me with a puzzled look on her face...*
"Hey, MW, what the hell is Bouche? You think you're funny?" *her minions look beyond confused at this point as if they were asked to write a paper on: "What is the biological basis of consciousness?" Yeah right, like that would ever happen, NOT!*

I just smiled & said, "No Bouche, I KNOW I'm funny..." and walked off.

Later that night, alone in my room looking into my mirror & spying the elusive M from the MW... I cringe my face into some semblance of a knot, (wouldn't recommend it as it gave me a headache...) and I said "SON OF A BITCH!" again, under my breath, but with enough passion that were I to give it MORE breath than I did, neighbors would've heard my mouth & would immediately have called my Mother...

Welcome to modern day Amy... bordering on 36 and long since gone are the days of MW (not because I don't obsess about it anymore, but more because years back, when the M started sprouting little fun filled HAIRS, I, IN MY BRILLIANCE, decided it would be ok to shave them off. *EHHHH* Thanks for playing, shaved that shit RIGHT OFF in the shower. Bled for days, never grew back... ) moving right along. Now, my issue is that I'm finding white hairs where I'd like them to be black, & black hairs where, honestly, THERE SHOULD BE NONE! (between that & the fact that I'm now allergic to Lobster, I KNOW that God has a sense of humor, cuz I'm his friggen LAB RAT!)

I sit in front of my mirror & notice, by the glow of my little desk light, that one or more hairs may possibly be SNOW WHITE, yet again.
Without skipping a beat, I reach for my tweezers with a somewhat evil & DETERMINED look on my face ( the type that, as a kid, your mother always told you that if you were smacked in the back while making said face, you'd be that way forever...) FUCK IT, bring it on bitches, I GOT'S WHITE HAIRS TO RID MY NOGGIN OF! *YANK* "Fucker! How'd ya like that?!" *YANK* *OUCH* "Fucking fucker... GET!*YANK* THE!*YANK* FUCK!*YANK**OUCH!*OUT!*YANK!*"

This goes on for probably five minutes before I realize, that not only am I doing it again but I think I just gave myself a fucking bald spot!

Truly, it's deceiving... By day, I'm this sweet loving adoptive mother & career nanny who you'd never suspect has the mouth of a crazy crack smokin' truck driver! What the hell is UP with that SHIT? And NEVER out loud, on no, perish the thought. That would just be SO un-lady like... No, completely proper to spew trash out one's cake hole should you whisper it under your breath, but DARE to give it some volume? TRASHY TRASH TALKER! HOW DARE YOU?!

Now, don't ask how it makes me feel better, it just does. It's as if those God damned white hairs KNOW what I'm saying & the harder I grit my teeth & yank with more FURY, they KNOW THE BITCH MEANS BUSINESS! Even if I'm merely whispering it for only THEM to hear...

So, I reiterate... yes, I think I'm going crazy.
Any of you ladies wanna join me?
*wink*