The sweet young girl who rips the hair from my face in an attempt to keep me from morphing into a generic human being, otherwise known as a man, kind of scolded me the other day. She said "Now, if you can leave your eyebrows alone for a month, I think next time we can shape them up and they will look real nice." Suddenly I felt like a five year old who just got caught cutting her own bangs.
It's funny how, here at blah blah years old, I can be shot down so easily. I know I should leave my eyebrows alone as well as my bangs, but the rebel in me still wants control. I want to show up for work in flip flops and I don't care if it is a bank. I don't care if I have a turkey neck and arms like a flying squirrel, I want to wear a halter.
To be a rebel or to live in bondage, I don't know whats worse. Do I put my glasses on a chain where I can find them, or wear those contacts that feel like two small pekingeses in my eyes.
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