I was warm and snuggly in my bed when the small green light on the CPU began blinking. It was around 1:00am because I MUST watch SNL every Saturday at least for a bit because I've watched it ever since I... have been watching TV. What is normally such a tiny and insignificant light appears really GINORMOUS in the dark of 1am. I should enter here that I am the lazy type of person that, while so bothered by the light, could not bear the thought of exposing my arm to turn off the computer. (I also wait until the very last moment to get up to pee when all cozy in my bed. Now that is lazy.) I think on some subconscious level, this blinking light destroyed my Saturday night sleep. The 6:45am alarm was just... ridiculous. I think my lack o'sleep did not bode well on an already volatile situation.
I am not sure if its this way for all gals or maybe just me. I hope I'm not alone in this one, but getting ready to go somewhere is torture. Maybe it is because I stay at home most of the week and feel pressured to 'show good face' on Sundays when we go to church. When I go to work on Tuesdays, its scrubs and ponytail time... no biggie. But Sunday morning INFURIATES me. I can't find anything to wear. My face, due to ridiculous overwhelming acne, appears to be rotting off my skull. And my hair hasn't been 'did' in months. I know they are probably not... I hope they are probably not... but I imagine people saying, "Poor dear, motherhood has really taken a toll on her". To top all of this off, the newest priest at the church I attend has decided the catechism teacher should walk all the way down the aisle to meet the children IN FRONT of the entire church at the beginning of mass. My youth director laughs at the fact he has requested this because she knows I hate nothing more than walking in front of people. Anyhoo... back to my face rotting... I wish I could scream, "FIND SOMEONE ELSE TO DO THIS. I HAVE ACNE." ...not a very good excuse I suppose. There's also these four minions we must get ready every Sunday morning at the ass-crack of dawn. They too must look overwhelmingly decent, lest my fellow church goers realize I just don't care about appearances. And so, my family got to enjoy a nice little bitch fit and icy mood once we finally got into the car (late).
(I guess I don't give my church peers much credit. We're all there for one reason right? I hope God doesn't care what I look like.)
Anyway, where am I going with this? I don't know. I wish I could wear my new Pearl Jam Zombie shirt to church with my black Converses. This may kill two birds with one stone: something comfy to wear plus they may ask me to NOT teach preschoolers due to my questionable t-shirts. The acne though... the acne kills me. I do not have any recollection of any worries of pimples in high school. I enjoyed amazingly clear skin. None of that after-school-special oh-my-god-I-have-a-pimple-on-picture-day drama. But THIS? This adult skin? Fuck you, adult skin.
I read a tiny little tweet today by a pal. Such a little thing to make me feel slightly better about the whole omg-its-church-time-again situation. It read: I hate doing my hair and makeup. Boys are so lucky. They just clean their genitals and they are ready to go.