lobsterchick's Diaryland Diary

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Freak Out '05

I am the most disgusting person alive.

I know, right now you’re thinking, “Nuh-uh. I have brothers.” But trust me; your brothers have never been as unintentionally gross as the story I’m about to tell you.

When I was diagnosed with PCOD, my doctor asked me if I’d experienced any increase in body hair. “Especially,” he said, “on your stomach?” MY DOCTOR WAS ASKING ME IF I HAD A TREASURE TRAIL. I assured him that I, in fact, did not. And I hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary as far as hair growth was concerned. (Hair loss is a different story. Somehow I’ve escaped the trap of thinning hair, even though I lose enough in one day to crochet myself a sweater. I have to keep a lint roller at my desk to de-fur myself at least twice a day.)

Fast forward to last night. I’m sitting on my couch, watching Dancing with the Stars. (Don’t you judge!) I notice that I have a hell of a zit at the base of my neck, so of course once I notice it, I can’t leave it alone. (This is just Exhibit A in the case of the State of Missouri vs. Sandy for the charge of gross grossness.) So I’m sitting there picking, and I happen upon a hair. It’s long enough to grab hold of (I KNOW! Exhibit B!), so I do, and I yank that sucker right out (Exhibit C).

Grab hold of yourself here, because Exhibits D, E, and F are going to come fast and furious. D: IT IS WHITE. Pure, snow white. Not grey, not brown (like the rest of my hair), but white like the snow-capped peaks of the Rocky Mountains. E: IT IS TWO INCHES LONG. I have freakishly tiny hands, and this hair is as long as my pinky finger! And finally, F: IT CURLS AT THE TIP. Three little swirls, forming a tiny corkscrew.

I have to call my sister immediately. But she’s out with my mom; I have to settle for DS. His reaction of “Uh…okay” just reminds me why I wanted to call my sister.

I hang up with him immediately, and call Kathy, my second-string sister (in matters as gross as this, only one sister will do). NOT HOME! I know Karin wouldn’t quite get it, so I’m holding the phone in my hand mulling over my options when Karin calls.

”I HAVE TO GET LISA TO WAX MY BACK” I shout by way of greeting.

”Ew.”

”I know.”

That was about it on the subject of Big White Back Hair ’05. It’s now a full 15 hours later and I have yet to get a hold of Lisa. When I do, I have one thing to say to her: “Get out your tweezers, a static-y balloon, and a bright lamp!”

10:23 AM - 30 June 2005

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