Mother of all Zits

I know I have mother issues, but I think I'm reaching crisis-level.

Saturday I spent a fairly stress-free day, avoiding both of the parental units (they are both ill and God knows difficult enough to be around when not sick, impossible to tolerate when they are) and finally deciding that I would go to bed early (9:30pm ... I am officially OLD) because I’d had a long week and entirely too much fun the night before (that’s another story for another time.) ;D

So, I crawl my happy ass into bed and zonk out before I’m entirely under the covers. Maybe that’s the reason for my terrible dreams that night?

"Why, Sharondarella, what ever could you have dreamed about?"

Well, I dreamed that when I arrived home the morning after my evening of way too much fun it appeared that my mother had decided that she wanted to have a mass-cleanup of the basement, garage and my bedroom.

She sold everything of mine that was in the parental house.

E V E R Y T H I N G.

I came home to find myself the owner of just the clothes on my back and nothing more. And to make matters worse, she kept the money that she made from selling all of my things. I think that was the final straw. In my dream I hauled back and finally let loose a stream of vituperative, rage-injected phrases that one NEVER uses towards one’s mother ... but I did.

I was so horrified by the things I was saying that it woke me, shuddering and loathing myself. In fact, my emotions were so strong that I ended up with a stiff neck, an aching jaw, and sore muscles that set up a protest march across my body. However, none of those pains was anywhere near as bad as the discovery that an enormous trio of pimples was parading across the right side of my face: one right where the ear joins the face, one on the jaw line and the third and most disturbing, right in the corner of my mouth where it looked for all the world like an extremely ugly “beauty” mark.

BTW, whoever coined that phrase must have been blind, because I've never seen a beautiful one yet.

I can only think that my dreams were so stressful and I became so angry in my sleep that my body was left with nowhere to discharge all of those negative ions, so the anger erupted out of my skin in the form of these festering, bilious pus-mongerers, more commonly referred to as 'zits' but I hate that word, so I try to use another whenever possible, hence pus-mongerers.

Does that mean that I can say my mother gave birth to this trio of monstrosities? (and I mean the ones on my face, not the familial brother, sister and myself; we are not a trio of monstrosities, regardless of what you may have heard.)

That's very interesting ... because I'd much rather blame her than Coke, Hershey's and jelly donuts. ;)

To cover my facial hideousness, I have developed a new hairdo ... I call it the “sweep all of your hair forward and to the right to cover everything, including the unsightly ugly next to your mouth” hairdo. I hope I never have to wear this again. Ever.

I’m supposed to have a haircut on Wednesday, but I may have to postpone it, if these don’t go away.

How is this for the week after my birthday week?

Sucks, doesn't it?

Actually, I'm okay with it. I had a great week last week, not to mention Friday night, so I'm due for a bit of bad; otherwise the universe will not be in balance and I could be responsible for a Tsunami in Japan, or a flock of rabid West Nile mosquitos ravaging elderly Floridians. God knows I wouldn't want to be responsible for THAT.

Happy week after my birthday, everybody!