If you Google “hot mess,” these are some of the images that pop up. I briefly thought about throwing up a selfie, but I already have too few followers.
I’m a mess. Not a hot one either.
My hair is pulled back into a messy ponytail and if I were 20 years younger, it would look cute in an insouciant kind of way but at my age, it just looks like I gave up. I’m makeup free, so the weird red spot that has squatted on my right (facial) cheek for almost a year is clearly visible. The dermatologist yesterday declared it a spider angioma, which is not lethal (just a little unsightly), and can be cured with a laser zap. Two out of three children are at home because of a teacher walkout and hell yes, those hardworking educators deserve a crap-ton more money, but, selfishly, I’m also a little worried about how a longterm walkout would screw up our already made (and paid) summer plans.
Additionally, I’m concerned that I’m starting to find fanny packs appealing and that coffee has become entirely unappealing.
Calgon, take me away.
Sorry for whining and even sorrier for using a nearly 50-year-old pop culture reference. Now I feel super old, too. I’m hoping you’ll cut me some slack for a not especially insightful blog post today.