Not sure that I mentioned that I took this week off from work. Apparently so I’d have extra time in which to feel sorry for myself. 😉 My 2nd job requires that I request all my time off for the year at the beginning of the year. As it is TD’s birthday week and he always said he never wanted to be in town for his birthday, and as things were going fairly well when vacation requesting time came, I took the week off. Fully intending to have us be well on our way to happily ever after. He always wanted to spend his 50th in the Virgin Islands. And I had it all planned (hell, any excuse for a tropical vacation, right?). Then things went to shit. Repeatedly. Then the week long cruise got cut to a few days in San Diego. Then the few days got cut to a weekend in the mountains. Then, as we all know, that got cut to nothing. I figured I could just spend some extra time with TD and the kids doing fun stuff, so no biggie. Then the ‘new rules’ were instated. So here I am, with the entire week off from work (and I tried to un-do my request so I could work and earn some $$ but to no avail) and not a whole hell of a lot to do. Thanks to TD, I no longer even entertain the idea of suggesting getting together. I don’t call. I don’t text. I don’t contact him at all. Sure, I respond if he calls or texts, but I don’t initiate anything. And it sucks. Funny (not really) how different things turned out. In every regard. 😦 So instead of doing much of anything fun as all of my friends actually work for a living before going home to their husbands and kids, I have been getting all sorts of lame appointments out the way. Dogs to the groomers. Me to the doctor. And dentist. And oil change place (no pervs, that was not a euphemism for anything). Yey. *sigh*
Oh well. So along with the stack of Living Social and Groupons that I have for he and his kids to do fun activities with me, and buried amongst all my beloved restaurant certificates was one for botox. Eeek. What better time to try this awesome injection of bacteria into my frown lines than now, right? I don’t mind the wrinkles at the sides of my eyes as those are from smiling. I LOVE those! They actually make me happy. I don’t mind the little wrinkles that recently appeared at the sides of my mouth as I attribute those to smiling as well. I do mind the deep crevices that have settled in between my eyes though. Those aren’t from smiling. And have been there way too long. Sure, I’m more sad than usual these days. Sure, I worry about everything (and everyone). Do people need to be able to see my worry lines from a mile away though? No, I don’t think so. So I went this morning. And let an oddly wrinkled lady inject this magic elixir into my forehead and at the bridge of my nose. And it hurt like hell. And she wasn’t very nice. And I hope I don’t end up looking like a wax faced Real Housewife of Wherever.
So me and my pin cushioned face are breaking all kinds of rules today. We finally gave in and went to the doctor. We finally admitted defeat and the fact that maybe I could use some ‘help’ finding my smile again. And the nice man gave me a free sample of a month long protocol for something new on the market (after complimenting me on my hair … I guess the messy, unbrushed look works for me ….. who knew?). I feel better already. No, not that they actually work that fast, but really …. aren’t free pharmaceuticals better than a man in your life? Oh, no? Damn…….
Another rule to be broken later today is that of no ‘food dates’ for 1st meetings. Certainly no food dates for men that seem unusually excited about meeting me. Certainly no food dates for men that I seem to be unusually uninterested in meeting. I tried to steer the date along the lines of coffee (yikes) or a (meaning ONE) drink. This guy seems so nice though. I thought I had him sold on the idea of a ‘quick drink’ and then he told me of all this research he had done for restaurants in my area and was very nervous that he selected properly. Crap. For all the bitchy moments I have and my stellar ability to offend, I just can’t do it to nice guys. I feel bad as I don’t think we’re a good match for many many reasons, but I’m going anyway. In jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt and flip flops. With my bad attitude, mopey personality, pin cushioned forehead and most likely covered in dog hair as I will have just picked up ‘the boys’ from the groomer.
him me luck?