So I have not blogged in a month, and the last time I blogged, my husband was in the hospital. I blogged from his hospital room because we live in that in-the-moment live-as-it-is-happening world. And then I didn't blog for a month for a variety of reasons. But rather than bore you with details of why I have ignored you for a month, I will sum it all up with one word:
There was vomiting involved and therefore I did not blog. Now aren't you glad I'm not including details?
Warning: that does not preclude me from including details at a later date. I'm just not going to do it today.
I have lots to tell you about the state of my husband's health, but I'm not going to blog about that today either.
Big important stuff has happened in our family, but I don't really feel like talking about that either. So instead I'm going to blog about my hair.
I certainly have my priorities in order.
Every so often I get in this grow-my-hair-out mood. Apparently I also occasionally fall into the string-all-my-words-together-with-hyphens mood as well. At any rate, everyone knows that when you are growing your hair out, you have to go through the growing out stage where your hair has no discernable style, and you pretend to deal with it by incorporating various hair accessories such as scrunchies, clips (or in my case) combs and headbands. You push and hold all this extra hair in place until it grows to the length you want it to be. Then you can have a normal hairstyle again that doesn't involve sticking something plastic into your tresses each day.
Can I just say, I'm never very good at the growing out stage. I know I'm impatient, but in my defense, my hair has a mind of its own. I never wear hats because my hair literally grabs any headcovering I attempt, and throws it off my head. Seriously. It's happened more than once. So when I start using combs and headbands, I'm trying to push down and conceal rogue hair strands that want to strike out on their own. Inevitably, I get tired of rogue hair long before I achieve the length I want, and I end up getting my hair cut again.
This time around I went without getting my hair cut since September. Can I just say, that's a lot of wild hair. Someone advised me that, instead of getting it cut, I should have it thinned because then it would be easier to control. That made sense to me so I had someone thin my hair with a razor.
I ended up with rogue hair that had no back up. Just wispy, long curls and trendils that stuck up in every direction. And it wasn't in that wildly sexy, uninhibited way that curly hair is in the movies and on TV. It was just nasty bristle-brush wild.
I finally gave in yesterday and went and got it cut. While at the salon, I got a text from my hair-thinner, who is not a professional stylist. She couldn't believe I was giving in when I had worked for so long to grow it out. She continued to fuss until I got home and showed her the results of a moderate trimming. Then even she agreed that it looked much better.
As I detailed how much I hated when my hair stuck out in every direction, she contradicted me and said it never did that. Except for the demon curl.
The demon curl?
"Yeah," she said. "Sometimes you run your hands through your hair and then you have a curl in the very front that stands straight up and points at people you're talking to."
And she was just now mentioning this to me?
At any rate, the demon curl is no more. And I think I'm over trying to grow my hair out for a while.
I also think I'm not going to listen to her hair advice anymore.
Now wasn't that more interesting than talking about vomiting?