Recently I've noticed several, shall we say interesting, developments.
It seems that my leg hair has, for all intents and purposes, stopped growing. I shave my legs and two weeks later I barely have stubble. It may be several months before I need a new razor blade. I can only hope that this, and I, last through the summer. [Ah yes, the black humor raises it's ugly, yet delicious, head once again - so sorry but I can't help myself!!!]
I have also noticed that my eyelashes have grown longer and have the cutest little curl to them. I can still hear the clang of the eyelash curler against the side of the trash can. Oh happy day!! And mascara, my cohort, my leige, my friend, my lover, always begging to adorn the sweetly feminine curtain that sits atop my eyelids. We can't get enough of each other, may we never be parted.
Oh, such a perfect specimen of shear femininity I have become, between the silky smoothness of my legs (post uber slathering of nuclear strength creamy lotion, of course) and the princess-ly quality of my eyelashes.....
And yet, what is this I spy? Could it be? Oh, please, show me not these long, coarse eyebrow hairs, so unbefitting a maiden of such fair countenance (or at least hairless legs and long, curly eyelashes). These eyebrows do mar the portrait of this fair maiden in their manliness and suggestion of excess testosterone. What conclusion is to be made from such a collection of features as this? Yea, who doest tread these lonely halls, is it a man of womanly features or a woman of manly features?
Oh, despair, it is neither (pronounced n-eye-ther).
It's just some chick who's on Tarceva.
P.S. We've been dining on a succulent banquet of the series 'The Tudors' - can you tell?!!!