Queen of Rambles

I woke up with two eyes full of crud thanks to my scraggly hair. I like short hair, but it doesn’t stay short when I don’t cut it for four months. It grows long and spiky and drips moulding mud in my eyes. Moulding mud looks and smells like ear wax, but it is a necessary evil. Without moulding mud I look like a mushroom head. What’s a little ear wax in the hair compared to mushroom head?

I thought I could delay the inevitable and get the hair out of my eyes with a well placed bang curl. I am not up on fashion, but I have a feeling that curled under bangs went out in the ’90s. Erik doesn’t particularly care if I’m fashionable. His only hair style requirement involves the ability to grab great handfuls of hair and pull as hard as his little arms will let him. He’s easy to impress. And Mike? I suppose if I ever saw him he might laugh at a curled bang. It feels like I never see him thanks to his job. I may have to go down there one of these days and offer some type of ransom. Do you think his boss would take a small, angry baby as a ransom payment?

I rummaged around in my bathroom drawer and slowly realized something so shocking I’m almost afraid to say it.

I don’t own a hair curler. Not a single one!

Where did they all go? When was the last time I owned one. In college I wore my hair like this:

You can bet your sweet bippy that required some SERIOUS hair curling attention. My hair is straight as a stick and doesn’t hold a perm. All of that blonde mess was the result of an hour of careful attention. An hour! Every day! Where oh where has that crazy appearance obsessed girl gone?

And can you believe that vest? I can only defend myself by reminding you it was the ’90s.

All that to say I got a hair cut today. And an eyebrow wax. And a filling. Obviously the filling didn’t happen at the salon, but it might as well have. It would have been more comfortable. The lady waxing my brows gently caressed my face with her sweet, soft hands. The dentist putting in my filling laid his big man hands in my eyeball as he worked the drill. I’ll take a waxing any day.

I’m sort of contemplating growing my hair out, so I went to the cheap salon for a trim. Normally I go to a pretty nice place and pay quite a bit more than I’m comfortable with to insure a good cut. I didn’t want to make an appointment and I didn’t want to have my drooling, lifeless lip while at the fancy-pants salon. Remember the episode where Kramer makes everyone think he’s mentally handicapped after going to the dentist? That’s how my mouth felt.

I got a mental laugh when I walked into the cheap place and realized it was mentally challenged day at the salon. There was a group of special needs men all getting hair cuts. I fit right in with my droopy lip.

I managed to make it home in one piece–barely. My lip was red and droopy, my eyebrows were fuchsia from the waxing and my hair is limp and lifeless. I suppose it’s all worth it. No more tooth pain and no more eyeball poking hairs should make life slightly more pleasant.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, February 7th, 2006 at 7:08 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.