April 09, 2004
Okay, on a reread, I want to clarify: the gray hairs aren't literally on my FACE. They, you know, hang by my face. Which is why I saw them. Yeah. The hairs on my face are another matter entirely, and in fact are probably overdue for a mowing.
Why yes, I am the goddess of sex appeal, thank you.
I forgot to mention: yesterday I found my first gray hairs. Two of them, on the left side of my face. The following conversation ensued tonight when I told my mom about it:
Mom: Just pull 'em out.
Me: Nuh-uh. They'd just grow back. *stares fretfully at hair*
Mom: Lisa, you're not going gray.
Me: Yes I am! *points to hand holding gray hairs, still attached to head* I'm looking at the proof right here in my hand!
Mom: Well, I'm sure you've got a few years left, at least.
And also? Crazy people call me at my job. No, I mean, honest-to-god crazy people. I used to think accountants were crazy. I was wrong. Crazy people are crazy. By my count, I've gotten at least two calls from someone in a psych ward wanting to get out. And don't even get me started about the ones that aren't locked up.
It's one thing to get someone telling you their life story and it's all about accounting. It's something else entirely when they're telling you about how they lost an eye in a car accident. And how now the government is reading their mail. And that the monkeys are spying on them from outer space. I wish I was exaggerating, but I'm not. At least, not nearly as much as you think I am.
I officially have a crazy writer job.