On Friday I had my hair cut. See that head shot over there? -->
The photo is from July 2012 and corresponds to the very last time I cut my hair. Yes. Over a year ago. It might be more accurate, then, to say that I had my rat's nest cut on Friday.
"What are we going to do with this?" my hair dresser, whom I have known for 13 years, asked.
And cut it he did. It is now well above my shoulders. And although my talented hair dresser made it "choppy" and "fun," it's still a bob. A mom bob, if you will. To match my mom clogs.
I met Rayne in the city that night for a pre-show drink in the theater district.
"Wait. What did you..." he trailed off.
"I cut it!"
"I can see that."
"I think I look like Dilbert's secretary."
"Are you referring to the woman with the yellow hair?"
"Yeah, the one with the triangle head."
At which point my husband explained how I was not only racist, but sexist as well. For the yellow-haired, triangle-headed woman was not, in fact, Dilbert's secretary, but the project manager to his software developer. Essentially his boss.
"Whatever. At least I'm more likely to wash it now."
"If that's your standard..."
Sadly, it is. Here is a visual for you. Replace the yellow hair with a mousy-brown-and-gray mix and you're there.
It was in the bathroom that I saw I had been bitten by some kind of bug on my right eyelid. It had swelled up so much I could barely see out of it. And so it was that I found myself eating breakfast at 5 am with Henry smearing soggy cereal across our table, looking like this:
At 6 am I put Henry, screaming at the top of his lungs in protest, back in
My sweet, sweet banchee wailed with abandon.
I kicked Rayne, hard. "It's. Your. Turn."
"What happened to your eye?"
"It looks infected."
"It's a bug bite. Go deal with your son."
I slept fitfully for a couple more hours, some of which were spent trying to ignore Henry, who was stepping all over my face and head, still managing to rip my hair out from its roots despite its short length.
"Why is he in this bed?!" I screamed at Rayne.
Needless to say, the run we were planning for in the morning did not happen.
Later that day, I noticed that the "bug bite" had "spread" to the other eye. Yay, pink eye!
When I returned from the (laughable) run/walk (mostly walk) and jumped in the shower, I noticed my nose was swollen and discolored. Now I look like this: