Fa-Rick

So I said I wouldn't complain about pregnancy anymore, and actually, I've done pretty well. Sure, it's been a little under a week, but ask Jeff...this amount of time can be considered in the "roll" category, as in, "I'm on a roll." Stoically dealing and accepting stuff just isn't my way, and yet, here I am. I'm okay with me. Someone should really get me something nice to commemorate this fantastic anomaly.
Now for the downside...because there always is one. I'm reluctantly guessing that all of you remember the big to-do I made about my hair...and how I was going to have something done with it. I didn't exactly know what, but it was going to be fabulous, and make me the envy of Utah Valley. Guess what? Instead of instantaneous possible fame or traffic-stopping beauty, I got a mullet. Now, traffic-stopping, maybe. However, as far as solving my not-wanting-to-go-anywhere, or alleviating my "insecurities" dilemma; not so much. (A personal note: In addition to my new atrocious hair, my brother-in-law caught me at Walmart the next day in sweats...not that that's too unusual for me, but my sweats were bright orange, my shirt bright blue, and my flip-flops bright purple...Have I just given up? Don't I remember the rants I've had previously about Riley's choice of clothing? The answer is NO. It was a Tuesday afternoon, I was there just to get some quick fixes and had to run into him, and my entire church ward, and my neighbors. I just had to specify in case someone else saw me, and was too appalled and/or worried to say anything. I'm okay, I just got severely caught). The question of my sanity aside, lets get back to my hair. Here's how it was before:


I think that for me, it's the novelty of just having long hair. It's not like it actually looks good. I mean, I can make it that way, with my curling iron, or my flat iron...but it always involves a lot of ironing, and then a lot of time, and I'm just too lazy. It's hair, for goodness sakes. So, in a ponytail it goes, or a bun, or braids...and then it looks like something that took me two seconds, because it did. Also, as I get older, my hair has gotten this wispy effect, and unless I use a lot of product, which I hate, especially in summer, it just doesn't appear smooth anymore. So I am well aware that it's not the dream hair that every little girl desires--the Rapunzel locks that are magnificent and flowy. Anyway, about my haircut. I went to Walmart "Smartstyle", expecting a miracle. I don't know what's more ironic, going to walmart for a hairdo, or expecting a miracle, but that's what I did, so I'm admitting that mistake, right there. I also always try to "scout" for the person that I want to do my hair...namely, the person whose hair is passable to cute and therefore, still has some link as to what's stylish. I zoned in on a cute girl that looked right out of hair school, and waited for her to get done with the guy that was fruitlessly flirting with her. But no. Out comes an older, and I know how terrible this makes me sound, obviously pregnant woman, with a not very cute 'do, and this is my stylist. This shouldn't surprise me, because in the lot of my life, this is status quo.
So she begins to ask me what I want. I tell her to remove five inches, tiny, minuscule, to no layers, and I wanted to try having bangs...as every other time I've chickened out. Then she begins. I get lulled into a false sense of security as she takes small, even snippets from my hair. We converse. We groan about the burden of children, and work, and womanhood, and all that stuff that amazingly enough, women, complete strangers, can dish about for hours. Then she's ready to do my bangs. She asks what way I wear my part, and I tell her I don't really have a way, but I want my bangs to swoop this way, and I show her with my hands. She says she's got it, and starts to work. Her first chop is like....I am reminded of trying to cut my own hair as a kid. It's just this blunt snip of scissors, and then there is no hair where there once was. I panic, yet remain quiet, because I don't know how to cut hair, and I don't want to cause unnecessary stress. An extremely long and painful process later, I had a mullet. She asked me how I liked it, and shocked, I said, "fine". While in my head I was just trying to will myself not to cry. And that was that. I went home, took a nap, showed the appalling results to Jeff and Kelli, because she happened to be there, and witness me get a bit teary-eyed about my situation. Jeff convinced me to do something I always do, wash my hair and try to style it myself. Without the obvious blunt frontal snips showing, I can manage. I'm still not overjoyed by any means, but it will grow until I can figure out what to do. There are always ponytails, right? Jeff likes them, so life is still livable. He says that no matter what I do, he still loves me...However, he also knows I'm crazy and obsess about everything. So this just may be a survival mechanism for him. BTW I told you my nose grows when I get pregnant. Why is this, does anyone know? It usually goes back down, but why does it happen in the first place? I'll probably dye my hair later this week, too. Darker. I know, I know. Will I ever learn? This is why I wish I could cut hair myself. That way, when and if I hate it, I can chalk it up to me being an idiot. Oh, and for those of you that loved my really short hair days, thanks. I appreciate the ideas. But I'm too much of a chicken, and the grow-out process is too much of a b!#@h. So baby steps for me for right now. (Also, with the nose, the jowls, and the belly? I'd be even more out of proportion than I already am....YOU know what I mean).