NOT BY THE HAIR ON MY CHINY-CHIN CHIN!

Getting older sucks. Not only do we have to deal with gray hair, wrinkles, slower metabolisms and bladder muscles that have given up on life....we also get to sport goatees!

So there I was...minding my own business...trying to get in some critical online shopping while I was goofing off swamped at work....when I started to reflect on my life.

Do I want the L or XL shirt?
Will the L allow room for my boobs?
Will this flannel flowy look pair well with my skinny jeans & boots?
Will it make me look fat?
Are there any coupons?
Will the shirt arrive in time for my 2 week Texas winter?
Am I seriously the only person who cries at the end of Mary Poppins?

This was seriously deep stuff, guys.

That's when it happened. A simple 'thinking man' stance led to my discovery of an abnormally long, coarse chin hair!

"Well what is this?" I said to myself as I gently stroked my long, wavy new lock of hair.
That's when I remembered....."Wait, I'm NOT a dude!!"

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My heart was racing and I began to perspire as a multitude of questions flooded my brain.
Where did this lil guy come from?
How long had he been there?
How did the rest my baby blonde feminine chin hairs feel about this vulgar hair-erection?
Should I use conditioner on it?

'NO. NO!', I thought. 'I must fight the good fight! I will not go gentle into that good night...old age shall burn and rave at close of day but I must rage, rage against the dying of ... my femininity?' Ok so even I don't know where I was going with that one y'all. Just let it pass.
So clearly I had to find my tweezers ASAP.
My plan was to pluck away the hair in hopes of restoring the small shred of dignity I had left.
There would be no five o'clock shadows on my watch!

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I began looking in my office drawers because sometimes when I browse.....eyebrows....

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When what, to my wondering eyes should appear? Not one, not 2 but 3 incredibly dull tweezers!
Now if you've never plucked with dull tweezers, then you cannot possibly imagine how frustrating it is to alternate between trying to pluck an embarrassing chin hair, while hiding the fact that you are plucking an embarrassing chin hair as people walk past your office.

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I needed to remove it swiftly like the ninja on crack drinking a redbull. But that's just not the hand I was dealt. So I tried to pull it myself....and basically freshly shellacked nails = dull tweezers. So I had to walk around the office all day...looking left...looking right....covering my chin with my hand frequently like it was itching, while probably inadvertently drawing more attention to it.

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I carried on this way until I could make it home and pluck this hairy scoundrel outta my chin.

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I was happy to be back to normal and ready to move on with my life. Until I woke up the next morning with another one! It's like the chin hair had groupies and they were pissed off that I murdered their master.

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Clearly this is going to be an uphill battle for the rest of my life. Why? Because getting older sucks!

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I tell my daughters all the time....enjoy your youth because one day - you might just wake up with a beard.

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NEW YEAR, NEW ME.....BUT I STILL WON'T EAT RIBS. OR DRUMSTICKS. OR LOBSTER. OR ANYTHING FROM A BONE.

Well...it’s finally 2017!! I’m sure *that* brings a sigh of relief to all of the surviving celebrities…but for all the rest of us mediocre peasant field hands totally regular folks, it means it’s time for us to set unrealistic super fun resolutions that we don’t intend to keep will totally fulfill this time around!
After all.....who wouldn't be down to drink some 'New Year, New Me' juice? Sign me up!

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My main focuses for 2017 are to eat healthier and to try not to cuss so damn much. Which brings me to my point.

Fresh. Local. Young. Chicken.

*Tacky Sidenote: If you are anything like me….you’re going to want to take just a few minutes to appreciate the borderline psychotic nature of the title. FRESH. LOCAL. YOUNG. CHICKEN. Couldn’t someone have thought up a better description?? This one just has an 'animal-edition of Jared from Subway' kind of ring to it.

So believe it or not, I've intentionally managed to navigate through my most of my life without preparing or cooking any type of animal products with the bones & guts still intact. It just grosses me out. Ribs, drumsticks, bone-in pork chops, whole chickens, Thanksgiving turkeys...and don't even get me started on eating lobsters, shrimp and crabs who still can gaze upon you with their little black crusty cooked eyeballs as you are barbarically ripping the flesh from their freshly boiled alive corpses and chowing down on them with a side of melted butter.

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I just don't need the added reminder that what I'm eating used to be alive.

So you can imagine the look on my face when my latest 'gotta lose weight fast' diet plan involved preparing and slow cooking a fresh local young whole chicken.

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So in order to begin preparing the chicken...you must first remove it from the plastic stay-fresh sac you purchased it in. Now just to further reiterate what you probably already know....those sacs have ounces and ounces of yucky fluid (see very 'faint bc my Paint skills suck' yellow arrows)

this fluid is just waiting to spill out all over your fresh manicure, and that includes but is not limited to your finger that was just injured when the nail lady got a little too ambitious during her cuticle cutting. It didn't sting or anything but as the cold fluid drenched onto my open wound.....I almost started clucking. Maybe it was a fluke....but maybe it wasn't??



First step.....remove the Gizzards and Guts. GIZZARDS AND GUTS!? Barf! Oh, and guess where those are located. INSIDE THE BELLY OF THE DECEASED. I had to go in and remove the gizzards and guts. I HAD TO GO "IN". IN!! As in IN in! I had to go IN and pull out the guts.

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But I did find out my gag reflex is fully functional and operating at a high rate of speed. I basically have the gag reflex of a 25 year old. Not to brag. #toolate

After violating this poor dead chicken corpse.....I had to season it. I was happy to mix the seasoning in a separate bowl and stir....but then I had to rub it all over this bird. Have you ever picked up a fresh local young chicken? It's totally the size of an infant. I haven't held anything so tiny since I had my babies! AND there was no hair on the skin....so it didn't feel like an animal.

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I felt like a cannibal after rubbing down this small lifeless corpse and putting it over sliced onions in my crock pot. I had to leave and run some errands after putting it on to cook....but it messed with my head for like at least 45 whole minutes after the fact..as the following text will prove:

I was able to move past the trauma of chicken preparation and settle into my day. I did often think about the poor little guy when I rounded corners and smelled his lil body cooking...but I found it was bearable if I didn't look too often.

By the time he was done cooking....he looked like a normal well-adjusted roasted chicken and was actually quite tasty! (and low fat). Best part is I get to snack on the lil guy all week long...so I guess it wasn't all in vain...but I can definitely say I probably won't do it again. I still want to eat it though....so I'll just make sure I delegate the preparation next time!

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!!!!!