Don't hate me because I'm beautiful

I was feeling particularly confident in myself and the answers I had prepared for the interview until I began to sit down in a chair in the waiting room and noticed the ginormous run in my pantyhose. You know, the kind that runs heel to hip. Oh yeah, classy, let me tell you. Gah! Thankfully I made a last minute change and opted for the nude pair instead of the black pair like I had originally planned. But being that milk has a tan compared to me, the stark whiteness of my skin was sure to shine thru even the nudest of nudes. OH, and for the cherry on top? I woke up this morning to discover that a pimple had taken up residence on my face. Not just a slight blemish on the side of my face but a giant pimple on the bridge of my nose. Smack dab between my eyes. And by giant, I mean the size of a small child. I think I'm going to name her Bertha.

Bertha is to my face what the North Star is to sailors. Bright enough for all the world to see. A beacon in the night. I thought about wearing my glasses to cover her up but thought the disguise would be far too obvious. Concealer didn't help. Come to think of it, when does concealer actually conceal anything? I could have bedazzled her with a rhinestone or ruby, but I didn't want her to outdo me and I wasn't exactly sure what kind of message that would send. I finally just said to hell with it. If they can't handle me at my worst, they don't deserve me at my best. I'm pretty sure that Marilyn Monroe meant that to be directed towards men, but whatever. Men, jobs...it's all the same. I ended up rocking the interview. I think. Regardless, neither run nor blemish could ruin my day. Now, if you'll excuse me, Bertha and I are headed to Jamba Juice for a celebratory smoothie.