friday

Look I'm not going to lie.  Friday was a little bit traumatic.  And I may or may not have spent most of the weekend drinking my substantial body weight in booze to get over the shock of it all.

It all started innocently enough, when I waltzed into my local beauty salon and casually asked if they could wax my eyebrows.  Turns out, they could do it right then and there.  Happy days.  So in I went, plopped myself down on the bed, made a bit of small talk with the beautician and then heard these words come out of her mouth:

"So do you usually get your upper lip done as well?"

Um.  That would be a no.  Partly because I'm 39, not 72, but mainly because I DON'T HAVE AN EFFING MOUSTACHE.**

But I swallowed my pride and answered with a very polite, "Well no I don't but if you think it's need doing, you'd better go ahead and do it."  Which she did.  

And let me tell you, waxing that upper lip  hurt like a mofo.  

Oh, and it turned my skin a delightful shade of bright red, which was really lovely, because let's face it, who doesn't love wondering around the shops looking like they've got a major case of pash rash all over their face.  When they're 39.  K&Co. over and out xox 

**(Above is an extreme close up/waxing 'before' shot, taken last month as part of Fat Mum Slim's photo a day challenge. To my untrained eye, there's not a mo in sight, but apparently I'm wrong. Very wrong.)

How about you?  Are you growing a mo or am I the only one?  Tell me everything...