My Blessings in Terms of My Fem-stashe

Stache-tastic

So I am officially 38 years old.

That happened.

I always assumed it would, but the older I get, the more thankful I am for each day.  I never really though I'd live forever, but I've become acutely aware that many good men and women haven't survived this long.  I can't help but give credit to where it's due and gives thanks to God for giving me life this long, and thank Him for my blessings.

First and for most, I should be proud of what I've achieved in life so far.  I have been married 15+ years to a really good looking, caring and funny guy.  I have healthy children, something for which I cannot thank God enough.  I have a wonderful, supporting family.  I have wonderful, fun and hilarious friends.  I know I have all these things when I contemplate that real and true part of me that is my fem-stache.

I do indeed have a stache that any middle school boy would be proud to own.  It's not visible in all light, but it is there none the less.  In the right light, I can even see it when I look down.  Envy me not, middle school lads.  Your time will come.

 I have a wonderful husband who lovingly tells me that I need to go back to the eye doctor because there is, in fact, no fem-stache.  I am seeing things.  He doesn't know what I'm talking about.  Awww. Is he lying?   Yes...but in this instance, I will allow it.

My young ones will one day know the daily struggle of subduing the fem-stache.  Until then, I will smile and kiss their little heads when they tell me that I'm pretty even with my fuzzy lip.  Awwww.  Look at that...broccoli has just been added to the dinner menu.  (fuzzy lip...I'm gonna fuzzy lip you in a minute.)

Swimming in the same gene pool means my family knows all about the fem-stache woes we must carry.  We just don't talk about it.  No sense in bringing up things that are just going to cause a fight on Christmas.  That would be like bringing up that time my sister sat on the star tree topper, and it actually punctured her hinie to where it was hanging from her little toosh when she jumped up screaming.  I mean really.  Who does that?

Wait....

And where you family loves you enough to shut up, you need friends who love you enough to call you out.  Yes, I have friends who, in love of course, remind me to take out that blonde caterpillar
under my nose with brutal force before Jamie Hyneman comes asking for his moustache  back.  Yeah they got jokes.  But that's cool because I got 'em too.  In all honesty,  they just want me to be my best, and they never say anything where I'll actually be embarrassed or humiliated.  They really are good friends.  I don't have time for any other kind of friend.  Remember I'm 38 years in the hole...time is precious.

Even though I will most likely be plucking and nairing this fem-stache until I'm too old care about my upper lip's Dolly Parton wig, I'm thankful for these past years and for the one yet to come.  Thank you for loving me Bear, my friends, my babies, and my family.  Thank you Lord for this life.

And HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY PICKLEHEAD!!  I am so gonna find this hat and buy it for you!

(p.s. PickleHead is my twin sis for those of you don't know.  She's pretty much the best.)