Up until yesterday Matilda didn’t have a name.  She was just a bump in the world. A bump with an attitude.

Matilda was the witch wart on my left wrist.  Oh yes, you read right. WICKED WITCH WART. She even had a scraggly hair growing out of her. As all proper wicked witch warts should, of course.

She showed up three weeks ago out of NOWHERE and just perched herself on my wrist like she had been there for years.  WTH!? At first she didn’t bother me and then like, I noticed a dark brown hair growing out of her.  LIKE SHE WAS ANNOUNCING HER ARRIVAL.

OHMYGOSH! What the hell!?

When did I get a WICKED WITCH WART?  And WHY?  I work in an office, people. I type for a living. And I shower.

No, really. I do.

So I was basically outraged for two weeks about the arrival of this thing until my darling baby sister pointed out that the obnoxious little bump on my arm must surely be the reason for my recent weight gain.

Oh yes, BRILLIANT!  Feeling so much better now.

Okay, not really.  But then my  pal Rachel (Goofball on the left.) took it a bit further (Gee, what a surprise.) and gave my little witch wart a name: Matilda.  Fitting, no?

Every wicked witch wart deserves a name.  And thus, Matilda the hairy wart was born.

I am sad to announce that although she was a mighty fine scapegoat for my overeating issues, she died today.  I bid her adieu.  She went to wart heaven.

GONE.

But what the hell, people? When did I get old enough to spontaneously grow warts?  SPONTANEOUS WART GROWING!!

My mother never told me about this stuff!!! What is next? Will they grow out of my chin? Cause that is exactly where I remember my third grade teacher’s wart growing out of!  I couldn’t even look at that woman without staring at the thing on her face. Oh, I REMEMBER it well.

I still have nightmares about it.

Is that my future?