infused with Vitamin Ego

mostly I don’t care
some days fall off deep end, though
feel like hunchbacked hag

I realized this morning that my toes look like wrinkled, dried up, albino snub-nosed carrots. They are not so cute right now. I blame winter. I also blame my sudden and spontaneous coveting of peekaboo heels. I can’t wear heels without, at minimum, twisting my ankle, and yet, all of a sudden I feel an absolute 100% need to but some black patent pumps with a little peekaboo for my toes. Except that my toes look like roots and tubers and I can’t wear heels without programming an orthopedist’s number into my phone.

What is happening to me?

Also, this morning I noticed spots on my hand. I think the scientific term is "liver spot." Can I blame winter for that, too? Probably I need to blame too many years in the sun.

How can I be shriveling up already? I’m barely into my 30s. Things are not looking up for my 40s are they? Maybe it’s time to start being a girl and paying other people to take care of these things for me.

What happened to my hard-line age gracefully stance? It went out the window the first time I dyed my hair and the next day a door-to-door salesman asked to speak to my mom when I answered the door. Stupid, lame, see-through sales tactic, I know. And never answer the door when it’s a stranger, I know. But I still fell for it, even as I yelled at him for knocking on my door.

I’m over the gray. I’m over the tuber-toes. I’m over the liver spots. I’m turning into a pile of food only Soviet-era Russians would stand in line for.

This, my peeps, is completely unacceptable.

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