Black-faced me.

Black-faced me.
Current mood: amused

So, friday night I dyed my hair black. You know how you get a little dye on your scalp, but it comes off when you wash it? Well, I had a line across my cheek. A line of black.

I scrubbed. I scrubbed. I whined. I scrubbed. I gave up and went to bed.

Woke up, getting ready for shopping with mom. Scrubbed more. Scrubbed more. Nothing. That line wasn't going anywhere.

So, I covered it as much as I could with make-up, and left. First place we stopped was Kroger. She goes in to the post office, I sit in the car and examine my cheek-line.

It's not going anywhere. What the hell?

So, I zoom in to the mirror and see....I have dyed my invisible-girl-peach-fuzz black.

Crap. I have dyed my face. I have a line of black-face!

What to do? What to do?

So, I scrummage through my car and happen to find a razor stuffed in my middle compartment. Just so happens I was running late one morning and shaved on the way to work.

Sitting Kroger parking lot, I shaved my peach-fuzz in the sun-visor mirror. Then I had to even out the sides. As I am gliding the razor along to make sure everything is straight....I realize what I am doing.

I am a woman - shaving her face in the sun-visor of her car on a saturday afternoon in the Kroger parking lot.

I look around, looking for spies. I have no idea if I had actually caught someone's eye what I would say..."I had black-face"?