I need Botox...and (for you giggling) I don't need it for my pits.

I need Botox.  I am not afraid of my 40th right around the corner and (for you giggling) I don't need it for my pits.  I need it for my poker face--that's right,  I am surprised that I haven't been kicked in the ass all ready.  I consider myself lucky.  I wear my emotions right there.  Even when my snark is held in (and my head is pounding), you can see my feelings on my face.  At six, it was considered expressive.  At 39, not so much.   If you stink or are stupid..you will see it on my face even while I am silent.  I can't hold it.  I think of my issue as a Tourette syndrome of the face---my face.

One of my best, Sue, had a birthday in Vegas.  She claims that her favorite moment was my expression when Heidi (also my girl) kissed a dude on the dance floor.  Let me tell you, that this dude was giving the mac daddy vibe, straight out of Jet magazine.  As Heidi is kissing this guy..Sue thought my expression was priceless.  (Oh shit, was it an expression of surprise, disgust..jealousy?  This guy seemed cool and H is cool..oh crap..it was jealousy.  I hope it looked like jealousy..H, while she wouldn't, does have the potential to kick the crap out of me.)

Most days..stone face..c'mon stone face!! Don't slip..(I think my face is drunk.)

But then again, I am blessed. (Go for the positive!) Apparently,  I have a constant pensive look on my face...some people don't approach me.  I know I look like I need more bran in my diet but if you don't talk to me..that's cool.  I don't like people..  We have covered that, right?