moosh in indy.

How do you decide when to get your hair cut? Or colored? I personally find that one day I look in the mirror, see nothing overly redeeming about my hair except for the fact that it is growing and that it is growing out of my head. Much like it was on this day:

I then make an appointment about a week away, so I can think about my decision and wear my hair up in a ponytail all week so I can show it who’s boss. Problem this time around was I decided to style it on Sunday before I got it cut off on Tuesday. Big mistake.

My hair always behaves itself when it knows it’s going to be cut off. Kind of like how a three year old behaves when she knows there’s ice cream involved. But I know it was just a show, and it went back into ponytails for the next 48 hours.

Then there’s the dreaded “so what are we doing with your hair today?” question. I dread it. “Cut it off! NO! Long, but not frizzy, but I need body! But I don’t want short. I want to do it curly, but straight too. I spend a lot of time outside so I want something that can be pulled up, but funky you know? I don’t want to look like a calico cat but I don’t want to leave here looking like a normal haired person. But I don’t like cool hued colors, I need warm, but not orange! I like a lot of colors, colors that remind me of food. I need to go dramatic or I’ll regret it after I leave! WAIT! Not too dramatic! I am a mom you know…” Blah blah same thing every time. Some of you may remember the last time I cut off my hair. Gah. Nightmare. I was told by four different people I looked like my mom. Which isn’t bad but when one of those four people is your husband, well. Then things get a little iffy. I wanted to go to Whoorl but when I read in the New York Times she had 150 people in queue for hair Thursday, I figured I’d better start praying.

Thankfully I was referred to a genius of hair and from her nimble hands I am now caramel, copper and ruby with the ability to fluff, curl, straighten, pull back and funk up in a hundred different ways. I wanted to wait until I had all! sorts! of! styles! to show you, but I’m too excited.

So without further ado, the new moi.

I’ll keep you updated on any new follicular discoveries around these parts.

You know what body of mine? We need to talk. I know I told the people at the DMV you weigh 125 lbs. and that it’s a wee bit of a fabrication. But you know one of my New Year’s resolutions is to get down to the weight on our driver’s license if even for a day. You know how I hate to lie.

Is that why you’re so angry at me?

I had such grand plans for starting anew after my 26th birthday. You know the whole “spring has sprung” “spring cleaning clean sweep” garbage? I was going to take really good care of us. I was going to feed us really well, take you to the gym, firm you up a little. I know, I know, I’ve been a total slacker since Florida. But you’re the one that let some virus bacteria bug of death take residence. You could have said no! Don’t come in! We don’t want to be sick! But did you? No! You invited that bugger right in to plop down in the Barca lounger that is my lymphatic system and watch the remainder of the NBA playoffs with a non alcoholic beer in one hand and massive amounts of phlegm in the other.

C’mon body, you know I hate basketball.

And don’t try to make me like you with that whole “But with all the coughing you’re doing you’re developing killer abs!” bit. I see right through it. And this whole losing our appetite and even if we get one we couldn’t use it because it hurts to swallow anything more than water and a handful of pills? Stupid. That’s right, I said stupid. Couldn’t you have picked a better time to have gotten sick? Like when Cody’s around for longer than four hours in the middle of the night or when the weather outside is sucky or when I’ve just gone to the grocery store? Even better! How about next time you get sick you plan a time when there’s ugly doctors at the hospital? Huh? Is that too much to ask?

Seriously, I thought I was going to die when Dr. Hot touched my ankle to see if my fever had gone down. Do you really need to reproduce our leg hair that quickly and in such great multitudes? I tell you, it’s completely unnecessary!

I’ll tell you what body. When we get better I am going to show you who’s boss. I am going to feed you so much broccoli and whole grains you’re not even going to have time to crave cupcakes and Skittles. I’m going to drag your flabby rear to the gym so often you’re going to be begging for mercy. Oh, don’t think I won’t do it? Oh I will. Just you watch.

What? You want a tan like all of your other body friends?

NO!

I won’t even let our skin see the light of day without a minimum of SPF 50. And that big goofy hat I wore today? You know the one everyone made fun of? The one that has its own planetary orbit? Get used to it body. Because our head is going to be wearing it all summer. Oh you’ll thank me later young lady. When all of your other body friends are big wrinkled leather bags with skin cancer you’ll be singing my praises. And the praises of my big goofy hat.

Oh yes you will, don’t give me any of that. Shape up body. We’re in this together, and if you want to go wearing that red swimsuit we just got to the pool this summer you’d better start listening to me.

Hey! Don’t turn your back on me! I’m talking to you! Hello?

It’s L-A-W-Y-E-R.

Yep. I name my zits.

Find out all about it at Blissfully Domestic.