Am I Really That Ugly?

Am I Really That Ugly? Or Am I really that old?

Am I really *that* old? Is it really *that* time?

BlogHer is tomorrow. I’ve been packing, running errands, and shopping to for the trip.

I usually sport the “Lazy Au Natural” look. I really don’t feel like spending my life in front of a mirror. I did decide that I’d better get my eyebrows done and find a better concealer before this weekend – since there may be lots of digital cameras floating around.

Yesterday, I walked into a salon and asked for an eyebrow waxing. The asthetician looked at me, and without blinking said “And your mustache and new highlights too, right?”

HOLY COW! How rude! Yes, I know. I need new highlights. It’s been months, and I just don’t care. But a MUSTACHE!!!!!? I have a mustache? Wait, I do not have a mustache! Do I??? Am I the only one who doesn’t know I look like Charlie Chaplain? Is this chick playing me because she’s just trying to make a buck? I hate it. I know she’s gotta make a living, but making a living by getting other people to feel insecure about their God-given bodies? DOOODE! that just sucks.

Later, I walked up to the Clinique counter and asked the saleswoman to pick the shade of concealer that I need for the acne scars on my chin. Again, without even blinking… “Here, let me show you how to put concealer under your eyes too.”

I can not be *that* old, can I? Or is this a revisit of the misguided pre-teenage notion that big girls wear blue eyeshadow? How am I *already* being groomed for the next twenty years of trying to pretend that I’m still 20 years old?

Today, I’ve looked in the mirror 4 times, and it’s only 8:00am. Fabulous. I haven’t done that since I was 18 years old.