I woke up on the wrong side of life today. I rolled outta bed to the promise of sunny skies and mid-60 degree temperatures (for central Illinois, that’s unheard of for March. Hell must of froze over), but instead, when what to my wondering eyes should appear….. rain. And clouds. And broken dreams. Oh, what was that noise, you ask? You know. Just my heart shattering into a bajillion little pieces. So, I gave myself a pep talk. Megan, this is fine. You like storms too. So what that you’ve been in the middle of an endless winter. Rain is better than snow, right? RIGHT?!
I somehow managed to drag myself over to my mirror to begin assembling myself for the day when, to my utter surprise, I discovered it was like an all out war up on my face. I literally have never seen so many zits on one face before. Uhmm, no. This can’t happen. Not to me. Nope. Uh-uh. Not possible. I’m a makeup artist. How can I expect my clients to trust me that I’m gonna make them feel beautiful when I can’t even do that to myself? I might as well pick out some names and start charging these zits rent, because these bad boys aren’t goin’ anywhere anytime soon.
On the verge of a complete mental hysteria now (in the land of PMS, rain and zits is enough to set off an end-of-the-world type catastrophe. I know you feel me), I stormed into the bathroom to go furiously scrub the heck outta my face only to stub my toe on the door frame, scream a selective string of expletives, and jam my finger on the door knob resulting in a broken nail, blood, and sadness that I spent all that money on the manicure that I had just gotten YESTERDAY. Oh, and to top it all off? We’re out of Monsters Inc. and Spongebob band-aids. Might as well just rip my heart out and step on it. It’s the same thing.
When all else fails, just go back to bed.
Today has been canceled.