11. Mind Yours
mind yours
Deirdre
I wrap myself in a terry cloth robe as I step out of the shower and begin what I like to call my nightly rounds of self-care. It ends with me curled up with a book until sleep eventually takes me.
My tedious skincare routine has me groaning at the thought of it, but tomorrow I’ll be thankful that I put in the effort tonight. My skin is improving greatly thanks to my new esthetician and products to target my hyperpigmentation.
Maybe someday soon, if I’m lucky, I can leave the house makeup free without a care in the world, hoping my dark spots continue to fade. As far as the skin picking goes, I can’t make any promises, but focusing on one thing at a time is the best I can do for now.
Once I look like an extremely glazed donut, I retrieve the small mirror at my vanity and begin my search. I tilt my chin upward to check for hairs, and sure enough there are plenty despite the fact that I plucked them all a few days ago.
It’s only one of the annoying symptoms that come with having PCOS. When Alora was diagnosed with endometriosis a few years back, it actually led me to my PMDD and PCOS diagnoses.
After I had opened up to her about my irregular periods, weight fluctuation, mood swings, and annoying chin hairs that I couldn’t stop plucking, she recommended I make an appointment with her OBGYN, and I’m glad I did.
After handfuls of appointments and some lab work, I found clarity and began treatment for both.
It was extremely validating to finally speak on what I was battling and be heard, rather than being told I simply needed to lose weight.
Finding a doctor you can trust as a Black woman is a different kind of struggle.
Especially when you’re experiencing infertility issues and would like to have a family someday.
The maternal mortality rate for Black women is exceptionally high and is enough to scare the thought of motherhood right out of us.
But I am grateful to have found a good doctor, one that I don’t mind hopping on a plane back to New York for, but I am glad she’ll still treat me virtually between my regular checkups.
I grab my tweezers, angle my magnifying mirror to get a close up, and start yanking out every hair in sight. Medication can help to slow the growth, and I suppose it does a tad, but I secretly enjoy removing them. Strange, I know.
As I flip the mirror to the magnified side, a faint red flash somewhere behind me catches my eye, and I freeze. The volume of my heartbeat increases until it’s all I can hear. I turn to find the source, and it’s above my closet, giving a view of my entire room and facing my bed.
I knew he planted more than mics in the house and have been determined to find them, but didn’t find any until now. Of course, it’s while doing the one thing that I should be able to do in the privacy of my own home.
I return to the vanity and continue my routine, tweezing while facing the camera and waving with a fake smile. I hope he can see me right now. I don’t care that he has the displeasure of witnessing me pluck my lady beard. That’s exactly what he gets for not minding his fucking business.
I’m sorry that I’m not used to being watched, but the least I can do is make his view unpleasant. As if he has a wire hooked up in my brain, my phone chimes with a text from him.
Scar
So…
What are you doing?
Minding my own damn business. You should try it sometime.
Scar
So, she bites in the nighttime too.
You don’t have anything better to do?
I’m sure my dad didn’t hire you to watch me in my bedroom.
Scar
You got me there!
Anyways, can you respect my privacy for ONCE?
Scar
I’m afraid not.
You’re really not scared of him, are you?
Scar
I don’t have anything to worry about when I do my job well.
I beg to differ, Sir.
I have yet to see you do this so-called job.
Scar
That’s because my job is none of your business, even if it’s keeping a watchful eye on you.
I’ll give you something to keep an eye on.
I stand from the stool and drop my robe, prepared to finish my nightly routine completely naked.
I unmake my bed, tossing the extra throw pillows onto a nearby chair, and climb under the blankets.
I fish for my Kindle, pulling it from under my pillow and settling in before I send off another text to him.
Have fun telling my father what I just did.
Goodnight!
Scar
Wait…
My shoulders shake with laughter as I leave his text on read and silence my phone. This is my life now, and it doesn’t appear to be changing anytime soon.