When it comes to describing the past month of my life, I don't know which word to use: dramatic or traumatic.
My grandmother used to tell me when I was a kid that I was a drama queen, that I made things seem worst than they really are. So for a split second, I thought that maybe this has been the case of late. So what if I am technically homeless. I still have my health and I'm not dead, right?
This is what I told myself as I laid down to sleep on the floor of the motel that my family is currently staying at. And I have to say I even felt refreshed as I got up to go to the bathroom. Then I looked in the mirror.
MY FACE LOOKS LIKE A PIZZA!
I swear to you that I almost screamed. My face is soooo broken out! Not to toot my own horn but toot! I usually have good skin. The few instances that my skin has ever looked this bad has been when I was really stressed.
I remember having Pizza Face in the second grade when taking my ITBS Test. You know, that whack placement test they give you in elementary school that more so grades the teachers than your abilities. That doesn't stop the teachers from pressuring you to tears to pass. And of course, I had Pizza Face right before I went to Xavier. Ah, when I had little non-problem problems.
So back to my face. It looks horrible. And on top of that, I have lost my Afro pick and my hair feels like a rug. I do not look cute. I need to get myself together ya'll.
No comments:
Post a Comment