Ever since I stopped taking a med called Topamax a year or so ago, my hair has been on the mend. I noticed that my hair was thinning and my husband pointed out that I was shedding copious amounts in the shower. Obviously, I discontinued it. It wasn’t doing anything positive for me anyways.

Now my hair is starting to look semi-decent again. I don’t really want to dye it, so I’ve been ignoring the silver that’s sprinkled throughout my hairline. I was looking for something that I could use to hide them without doing any further damage to my sensitive hair.



Next up will be Botox for my frown lines.

I seriously don’t care what I look like most days, so wanting to improve my outward appearance must be a sign that I am starting to. You know, gonna brush that grey right outta my hair and all. Then I will feel like a proper lady again.

I even plucked my eyebrows and rid myself of my chin hairs, although those little bastards are determined to make me feel like a man. I can’t brush those away like I can the grey. They’ve been the bane of my existence since I was 25. I woke up one day and there they were. I can’t ignore them for long, but because I stay home so much, they do get overlooked. Before I go anywhere, there I am, tweezing away. For each one that I pluck, two more spring up to take their place. The lazy way would be to shave.

I did that once.


Bad idea. Never shave your chin hairs, ladies. Unless you want a lush beard.

I have more pimples now than I did as a teenager. My skin care regimen is nonexistent. Sometimes while I’m in the shower, I’ll use some bar soap to give my face a quick wash, then use a dab of moisturizer for shits and giggles.

It’s hard to care what you look like when you feel like a turd. In the end, it really doesn’t matter if I’m beautiful, as long as I don’t smell.