Last year just before BlogHer I had my hairs done. Not only was it the best hair did session I had ever had, I had also finally found someone. Someone who I could just sit down in her chair and say “FIX THIS” and she did. Perfectly.
The stylist ended up breaking her shoulder about a week after she did my hair. I was one of her last clients. (Try not feeling really guilty about that. She’s the one that breaks her shoulder and I’m the one that’s boo hooing because she won’t ever be able to do my hair again.)
One of the most shocking things about this haircut is that she actually thinned out half of my hair. I have a ton of it, it is naturally curly (hello, have you seen my kid?) but it is very, very fine. Having all that extra weight gone was liberating. And the color? I did nothing less than glow for months. It was through this haircut that I met Whoorl and it was through this hairstyle that we came up with the “Let the moosh whoorl your hair contest extravaganza” (Long story short, I won a $1000 gift card and decided to pay it forward by holding a contest and sponsoring another lady to have a complete hair makeover. Because good hair days? WORTH EVERY PENNY.)
Oh. Speaking of pennies.
We just bought a house. With a broken pipe that flooded the ceiling and turned my kitchen into Lake St. Moosh. And it’s infested with carpenter ants. And it’s currently painted in all the colors that were rejected by Chuck E. Cheese and It’s a Small World. BUT OOH! HOME OWNERSHIP! My husband also just graduated from law school. Which means all those people that funded law school are going to want their money back in a few short months.
Guess what the first thing to go is when you have to give up “luxurious spending?”
And then I started going bald.
So I had my hair thinned out on purpose, and then I started going bald.
And then I started to cry a lot.
The time came that I needed to get a trim on my thinned balding head of hair.
On a budget.
Which landed me at a mall “salon” with a salty older woman named Charlotte.
$18 hair cuts really do look like $18 hair cuts with my hair.
Charlotte decided that “blending in my bangs” meant “bring them back to life, only when they are reanimated make sure they are in the ’90′s style of big swoop bangs.” Oh, and then she just trimmed the rest all even without blending the layers so I ended up with a sort of mullet with a puff on top.
There are very few pictures from this period of my life. Most involve ponytails. And headbands.
But this one survived.
This was after Charlotte, twenty minutes of tears and an hour with a straightening/curling iron.
Even my mother in law concurred that I pretty much looked worse than before the haircut.
So maybe you’re thinking “It’s not that bad.” Which I agree, it’s not that bad.
But I know what good hair can do for a girl. And for her outlook on life.
My hair has roots. It’s not a flattering color for my skin. It’s too heavy in places, too thin in others. But I have hair. And it’s not falling out anymore. It smells pretty good most of the time. It’s healthy. And most importantly it’s growing from my head instead of my nipples (you PCOS girls out there are all AMEN TO THAT.)
Why make such a big deal out of my hair? Three reasons. One? I’m having a giveaway based on all things follicular. You want to win. Promise. Find all the details here.
Second? Susan of Friday Playdate, Heather of No Pasa Nada, Danielle of Foodmomiac and Sparrow Hair in Chicago are having a little hair makeover contest. And I’d kinda like to be able to be in the nimble hands of Sparrow Hair and Whoorl all while being in the company of Susan, Heather and Danielle. I’d like to spend my BlogHer weekend with fancy new hairs. (Hello best swag ever.) And also? If I don’t enter for this opportunity? I’ll be destined to “Charlottes” because when it comes down to it? Functioning plumbing really is more necessary than fancy hairs.
Third? The only appointments I’ve had the past two months have involved doctors, gas, bloating, blood, narcotics (so this one’s kinda funny), nausea, pain and my vagina. I’d like one that didn’t involve any of the above. And for the pity vote?
That’s not a baby. That’s C02 from my laparoscopy. And that’s also a ponytail. And a headband.
See? I don’t lie.
*kiss kiss* to the judges. I don’t envy your task.
(going to BlogHer? You can enter too as long as you do it by tomorrow. See aforementioned sites for all the details.)