I’m right there with ya, kid.
I am writing this post in the last hours of my 25th year. It is the end of my first quarter-century; I have completed one fourth of my supposed long and happy triple-digit life.
I am enduring this home stretch with a set of very troll-like eyebrows.
You see, I’m doing this thing for my birthday called destressing. I’ve spent this past week preparing for a day of complete and total self-indulgent bliss. I start with getting my hair done, progress to getting my brows “designed” and then get a long, lovely massage.
That’s right, I said “brow design”. Apparently that’s a thing. This entire time I’ve been walking around with normal human eyebrows and thinking it’s socially acceptable but it’s not. They need to be expertly crafted. Doing so will change the way people look at my face, perceive my hairstyle, and receive my opinion in large groups.
That’s what I’ve convinced myself of, anyway. My 26th year is going to be an expertly crafted Year of the Brow. There’s only one catch. In order to properly have your brows “designed”, you have to grow them out. Like, stop tweezing them altogether for 6-8 weeks.
I’m a generally fuzzy human being. No brow maintenance has been difficult for me. In the midst of my neglect, my eyebrows have taken on a life of their own. I have almost no discernible arch remaining and tiny hairs are sprinting away to my hairline in fear of what may become of them.
I’m spending the last hours of my 25th year as a common troll.
Aside from tomorrow morning signifying the beginning of The Year of the Brow, it will also be a day for complete and total relaxati0n. To prepare, I woke up at 5:30 this morning and worked until this post was complete. Because I’m at a point in my life where I can’t actually take a day off unless I’m going to agree to not sleep another day to make up for it.
I think that’s called adulthood.
Anyway, I’ve been celebrating my day of stresslessness by slowly eradicating awful, stress-inducing things from my life. Today I even cleaned out my refrigerator and cupboards so that they didn’t sneak up on me in a week and cause a stroke.
I also quit my job.
You like how I just threw that in there? All casual and whatnot with the fridge and the cupboards.
I am indeed headed to a spa tomorrow as a birthday celebration. But the real gift I gave myself is walking away from a death-inducing job. I’m so tickled I might pee myself during the spa celebration just thinking about it.
I would have much preferred to write about all the details surrounding that bundle of joy, but we’re not in the early 90’s anymore, kids. If I’m going to write about my job, I’m going to have to put it in a tell-all book that will be ravishing enough to make millions – because I’ll never work again. And I’m just not that confident in my following yet.
So hey: Happy Birthday to me. I’m overtired, unemployed, and I look like a troll.
Sounds like I’m just a skip and a jump away from 30. ♣
The Jackie Blog 