Conversations about trich make me want to pull my hair out.  (See what I did there?  It’s like a double-entendre!)

Today I had a great conversation with a friend about this little project I’ve started.  “Project” is such a stupid way to describe this, but what else am I supposed to call it?  Maybe “self-humiliating, terrifying, soul-sucking, mortifying exercise in insanity” would be more appropriate?

Anyway, I had this conversation, and even though talking to her is always wonderful, I came home completely stressed out.  Surprisingly, dragging this topic out from under the 2-ton rock where I usually hide it and putting it out there in the light where it sits all pink and shriveled and shivering from being hidden for so long is not as easy as it sounds.  I came home from this lovely time with a friend seriously wanting to sit in a corner and quietly pull out one strand after another until my heart returned to a state of semi-normalcy and I could take a deep breath without having to force a yawn.

This is not going to be easy.