The getting old thing sucks.

I understood from a young age that growing old wouldn’t be a picnic and I’ve met the various aches and pains I’ve developed over the years with, what I would like to believe, is a certain amount of grace and acceptance. What I’m not happy about, and what no one who ever bitched about getting old had ever mentioned to me, is how some of us (me) would develop weird little disfigurements as we age. 

Specifically, little bitty bumps. I noticed a few years back that I had a couple of little bumps on my forehead near my hairline. They didn’t hurt like a pimple and they weren’t hard like a wart. Just a couple of little bumps like tiny lunar landers had set down on my face. Well, you can’t be young and beautiful forever I suppose so I accepted the bumps as a the price of wisdom and moved on. It was only a couple so no big deal. Then today I just happened to notice that the number had grown. I now have a string of the damned things across my forehead down into my left eyebrow. What the fuck?

Crater face has arrived.
It’s like a scatterplot graph of Trump’s approval rating on my fucking forehead!
Click to embiggen, if you dare.

I didn’t sign up for this shit and I want to know who to write to in order to make a proper complaint. There’s eight of those little fuckers on my face now and I suspect they’re conspiring to increase their numbers as I sleep. I tried checking on WebMD to see if they had a name for them and now I think I might have forehead cancer. Don’t ever try to look up anything on WebMD, they always say it’s cancer. 

So I’m trying to spin this into a positive by telling myself it makes my forehead look all rugged and shit, but it doesn’t. It just looks like I’ve been practicing writing in braille on my face. Also, that little outcropping of hair at my widow’s peak is slowly losing the battle of existence and now you know why I shave my head regularly. 

Oh well. I suppose I’ll just have to live with it, but it would’ve been nice to get a warning that this was going to happen.