They can't tile a bathroom correctly. They can't insulate a basement correctly.
But, it seems they can manage to pick out a bathroom mirror that disguises every possible flaw in one's face.
Sounds awesome, right!?
You put on your make-up, get yourself done up and think you're lookin' pretty good. Ready to strut the aisles of Target like a Milan runway.
You feel thousands of miles away from that girl that lives in her pajama pants, leans back and funnels chip crumbs into her mouth and picks her feet.
Until. (Oh yes, there is a BIG until...)
You decide to get out the hand mirror and stand by the window in said bathroom to make sure the new shade of foundation you just bought matches just right. (And you don't look like those hideous women with orange faces and white necks. I mean, are they blind?).
And there it is.
How long has it been there? How many people have seen it, and not said anything? What must people think of me!? Are people talking about me behind my back?
I had NO idea.
HOLY sweet Mary mother of Pete, goodness gracious Guss.
I HAVE A MUSTACHE.
When did this happen!!!?
What do I do? Can I pluck it!?
No, I hear my mother's voice echoing in my head..."When you pluck something it just grows back thicker and darker honey!"
WHAT DO I DO!!????
Cue me, frantically calling the salon five minutes away.
"Hello...Salon Blah Blah Blah. How can I help you today!?"
"Umm. Do you do waxing? Like...(gulp) whisper...lip waxing?"
"Sorry sweety, I didn't hear you. What was that?"
"Pardon? We must have a really bad connection."
"LIP WAXING. DID YOU HEAR THAT. I'M A HIDEOUS FREAK AND I NEED HELP. ARE YOU HAPPY! Do you have any openings this afternoon?"
"Can you be here by 3:45?"
"YES. Done. I will be there."
I am going to blame this on the crazy hormones of pregnancy, childbirth, breastfeeding, stopping breastfeeding, periods and woman things.
And never speak of it again.
Until I have to go back in 2-3 weeks.