Now that I've come out with my little button phobia (Damn! I had to type that world again!) I feel the need to purge myself with some more confessions.
First of all, I feel the need to admit that I talk to myself. A lot. I have whole conversations with myself where I play the part of me and the part of some other character.
To tell you the truth, I was worried for years that this was a sign that I needed professional help. But recently someone offhandedly said to me that my talking to myself like that was "just the writer" in me.
I sort of like that. It makes me sound more like an eccentric genius and less like the freak I know myself to be. So now I'm going to boast about it. Yup. I have imaginary friends and I talk to them out loud.
If you see men wearing white, carrying nets, and headed toward my house, please stop them and explain that "eccentric genius" thing. Okay?
Next, I feel the need to explain about my eyebrows.
Most of you probably know that I'm not really into appearances. I don't wear make-up and I've never colored my hair. So it might make sense that I wouldn't pluck my eyebrows.
Except that isn't the reason.
Actually, my eyebrows drive me crazy. They're really thick and dark. If I could, I would pluck the hell out of them. But I have a problem.
I have a cowlick in my eyebrow.
The hair in my left eyebrow, from the bridge of my nose to almost the center of my pupil actually grows the opposite way than it should. If I were to pluck out the cowlick, I'd have a huge chunk of hair missing from my left eyebrow.
So instead, I pull at the hair in my eyebrows. All the time. I'm like an evil villain twisting my moustache, except with my eyebrows.
For a while I worried that this was some sign that I had OCD. But then I read of another blogger who pulls out his eyelashes. I think it was Todd. And a bunch of people commented that they do the same thing.
So once again, I'm going to go with my eccentric genius excuse. Because if it is good enough for a bunch of bloggers, it is good enough for me.
Oh shit. There might be a flaw in that reasoning.
And finally, I feel the need to inform you all that flattery will get you everywhere with me.
I really struggle to say no to people sometimes. When my husband is deployed, it is pretty easy to say no to any requests for my time or efforts or, um, body, or anything else. "Oh, I'd love to, but my husband is deployed right now..." is usually enough to get me off the hook for anything.
But if you flatter me, I don't have a chance in hell of saying no to you.
It's a good thing my husband isn't reading my blog right now, because he wouldn't be very happy with what I'm about to tell you. At all. In fact, he's going to kick my ass when he finds out about it. (Not literally. Don't worry.)
Somebody asked me to do something last night. I know I should have said no. I should have screamed no and run away. But this person started flattering the hell out of me, and I just couldn't say no.
Now I'm running damage control and there will be hell to pay when my man comes home.
What did I do? Oh hell, What did I do?
I agreed to be a chair on the parents' association next year.
There will be hell to pay. It would have been easier if I just cheated on him instead.