As I sit here drinking some Merlot, eating chocolate covered almonds and picking at the goddamn hair growing out of my chin, it occurs to me that it really fucking bites that we don't get to choose our gender.
I am apparently going through some sort of fucking menopause, 'tread softly around me lest I claw your motherfucking nuts off' type physical & mental thing.
While shopping with my Mom and Aunt at this cute little boutique, I tried on a few things. Then I do what I always do, get close to the mirror. I was squinting and trying to see if the mutant fucking hair had re-appeared on my chin. It's been sprouting there for about a year now. It used to be funny when I would go cavorting through the house on all fours, doing my best billy-goat impression. Now, a year later, the shit's not funny anymore. It won't go the hell away. (We won't even TALK about the how I'm finding more and nore white hairs in my eyebrows).
Satisfied that the hair was dormant for the time being, I began to move away from the mirror when I saw something even. more. horrifying. Some of the hair on my fucking upper lip had gone from pretty invisible to fucking black. Only three or four, but, whatever! That constitutes a motherfucking moustache to me, assbags.
I ran wildly from the store (yes, I left my purse in the dressing room. A MOUSTACHE IS GROWING ON MY FACE, FOR FUCKS SAKE) and launched myself out of the door and into the fucking SUV before someone could see me.
My mother and my aunt stopped talking and looked at me with mild interest. No one who knows me is surprised by much anymore. I'm sure they initially thought I fucking robbed the joint. They slowly followed and once in the SUV I turned to my Mom.
"Mom. What the effin' hell is this?" I leaned over and put my face within millimeters of hers. I jabbed a finger accusingly at the offending hair.
"What? Oh. Yeah, that happened to me when I was about your age, too." She turned back to my Aunt. "Didn't you have that problem? You know, with the hair?"
"Oh, yeah, but mine started when I was about twenty one or so." She's nodding her head and they're looking at each other like I'm talking about a goddamn pimple and not my impending metamorphosis into a hairy man. What. The. Hell.
"I have a fucking moustache. A FUCKING MOUSTACHE. Why did you do this to me? It's hereditary, isn't it?" I wrenched the rear view mirror around and stared, bug eyed, at the hair again.
"Dutchess, watch your mouth. It's just some damn hair. Do like I do. Wax it."
Aunt piped in. "Oh, that gets tiresome. Just shave the damn thing."
I looked at her like she had just suggested I slice off my goddamn nipples and throw them around like miniature fucking Frisbees.
"Shave it? Woman, get something straight. I shave my legs, I shave my pits, I have even been known to shave my no-no holes, but I DO NOT SHAVE MY SON-OF-A-BITCHING FACE. I am not a man and I will not just accept the fact that I'm turning into one."
My mom is still disinterested in my crisis. "Where is your purse?"
"It's in the damn dressing room."
"You left it in there?"
"Do you see my goddamn face? Do you? Can we get back to this, for fuck sake...please?"
"Oh, good Lord. You think that's bad, wait till it starts sprouting out of your nipples."
After I cocked an eyebrow at her in sheer horror and then realized she was serious, I immediately left the car, walked into the adjacent store and bought three bottles of the best of Merlot (aka: one with the highest alcohol content) I could find.
Later that evening, the family just gave me a wide berth as I drank straight from the damn bottle, lamented about hairy nipples and hit everyone up for a donation for full fucking body electrolysis.
I have $82 of the estimated $8,000 it will take. Feel free to donate.