The Queen B

Good Friends Love You In Spite Of Your Hair **UPDATED**

I had been looking forward to last Friday for a while.

Shannon and I had been planning on getting together for months. Friday was the day.

Though we've been in touch, we hadn't seen each other in 6 or 7 years.

I planned on getting my hair cut and colored on Thursday. I mean, if I couldn't lose 10 pounds on Thursday, I figured good hair was my next best option.

I went to my regular hair person. She is very conservative with hair color. I had no worries.

My hair is naturally very dark brown--almost black. I usually add a few highlights to make it look like I have hair with texture instead of a helmet. But lately my highlights have been turning a bit blonde and brassy. I asked if we could do a little red/brown highlight rather than the brassy.

I believe the words used were: chestnut; walnut; light brown; auburn.

I believe what I walked out with was: wildfire; explosion; red-orange; orange-red.

The color of those highlights cannot found in nature.

When I walked outside in the natural light...The Princess gasped.

That is never good.

I immediately got on the phone to call my sister-in-law, who is a stylist. Until that point, I had managed to not go to her. She is totally qualified. I just thought it could be awkward. If I hated a cut or something, it would be totally weird.

And I avoid totally weird like nobody's business.

But Thursday I called her and began the pleading. Oh, the pleading.

She met me at her salon at 7:30 Thursday night.

She put purple color stuff on my orange highlights to make them not orange.

It made them purple.

And I do have to say that a little purple is way better than neon orange. I am eternally grateful to my sister-in-law. Though now I have the humongous dilemma of who to go to next time.

I'm thinking I may have to move to another state to avoid the awkward.

By my next hair appointment.

Anyway, I knew that Shannon would understand that I had a hair dilemma. There are about thirty hair dilemmas from our teenage years that immediately pop into my mind.

I knew, however, that I would be meeting Chilihead, and I didn't want her to think I was pleased with/accepting of my purple hair. I thought of how I could maybe be like, "Hi, Chilihead. I'm Eggplant-head".

But then I thought that it would be better to be known for my purple hair and not my dorkiness.

And can I just say that Chilihead is hysterical? She is so funny. And nice. And smart. I just love it when people match their image in my head and she totally did. (And by the way, Chili...my hair is not normally purple.)

It was great to spend the afternoon with Shannon and her family. It really felt like time had not passed. If we hadn't been watching our children play, I might have thought we were right back in the good ole days of Debbie Gibson, cheese fries and boy trauma.

Um. And you know Shannon's pet rats? Yeah. Well. The Princess loved them. And she dropped one of them on my back. And that is just creepy. So, with the exception of being violated by the rat, it was a fabulous day.

But still, I had the hair issues.

So Saturday, The Princess and I spent the day with QM/Beachy Mimi. Who immediately suggested that we do something to get the purple out of my hair.

(She loved the nose ring, though.)

I called The King's cousin's wife, who is a stylist in the town that I was visiting, and had her take a look at my hair. She put something greenish on my hair. And you know, it didn't even scare me. Because if you take orange and purple and green...surely you get something close to brown.

And we did. We got something close to brown.

And I am not touching my hair again.

For at least 8 weeks or until my gray begins to show.

***PEOPLE. My camera is still in the shop from The Great Parasailing Adventure. I borrowed a camera for The Garden Party. I am too embarrassed to borrow a camera for The Great Eggplant Hair Disaster. And it is too late anyway. The hair is close to brown. Boring. I apologize for not thinking to take pictures during the fiasco, however, things were a little stressful at the time and documenting it on film was not my priority. I will do better next time. And trust me, there will be a next time.***

The Tide Company is Very Appreciative

When I first read about Big Mama's Fashion Fiesta, I planned on opting out.

I'm all about good fashion. And a good fiesta.

It is just that I've strayed from my fashion roots.

I've become, dare I say, boring.

I know how to dress. I know what looks good.

I just don't do it.

It is so much trouble.

To make it look like no trouble.

And I've got this new roll over my jeans.

And my arms are flabby.

I need to camouflage those things. Fashion these days does not allow for the camouflaging of those things.

But then it occurred to me. That is the point of the Fiesta.

Big Mama, in all her fashion genius, knows all that.

Maybe she's trying to prove the point that NOBODY ACTUALLY WEARS THE STUFF THEY ARE TRYING TO FORCE ON US.

They being, you know, they. The fashion powers that be.

Or maybe that is not what she is doing at all.

So here goes. Don't expect this to make much sense.

I can assure you that 99.9% of my time is spent in jeans. I'd rather be in jeans than the yoga pant. I LOVE MY JEANS.

My daily jeans are Lucky.

Heck no, that's not my body.

I do love my Lucky jeans, though. I buy the Easy Riders. Which sounds like an old lady pair of jeans.

Which, in essence, they are.

Because I can sit in them. Like the good old days. When you could sit on the floor without displaying your crack to an entire population.

I have dressy jeans, but I only wear them on special occasions.

They are David Kahn. I love them.

Missy Miss Model makes my dressy jeans kind of look like daily jeans. Which they are so not.

But back to the daily.

My daily shirt would be, um, a t-shirt. That's it. Just a t-shirt.

Preferably a soft one.

Untucked. (Remember? The roll?)

This is my favorite.

Those aren't mine either.

Which is unfortunate.

I also have a Mt. Dew shirt. And a few others.

Because I'm nothing if not a walking billboard.

And on cold days I wear a white long sleeved t shirt under them.

I am in a never-ending cycle of washing and wearing the good ones.

I wear the same shoes everyday, too. I have a black pair and a brown pair.

They are Reef. I love Reef.

My fancy shirt would be something like this.

How cute would that be with these...

I would probably never wear those.

I'd go to the mall to buy them. Try them on. Love them. And then say, "Oh. I don't really need them."

And then I'd have the fancy jeans on with the cute top. And I'd think how good those shoes would've looked if I had them.

And the entire outfit will be ruined for me.

So I'd just go put on my t-shirt and jeans and Reefs.

Exciting, isn't it?

Now. If the rest of you put your really cute stuff on your posts...like, if you wear the cute stuff every single day...I'm gonna be mad.

Because I'm Thinking Happy Thoughts

I am not able to discuss my hair today.

Because I want to be happy.

Suffice it to say it is so short that it was dry before I had a chance to dry it.

Instead I'm going to relive my Anthropologie shopping.

And before anyone thinks that I have the ability to shop with no regard for the cost of the beautiful things, I need to explain my good fortune.

Both my mom and my dad gave me Anthropologie gift cards as my Christmas gift. Both of them.

Because I rarely mention my passionate love and desire for the Anthropologie clothes.

So. I had some fun.

My dad and The Princess walked around the mall because The King wanted to join me on my adventure.

Yippee.

He immediately saw this handbag and insisted that it be included in my purchases.

Don't get me wrong. I think this is a fabulous bag. But it could have been a skirt. Or a pair of pants. Or a (wiping tears) sundress.

I now have the bag.

Which will be buried with me.

I love this skirt. It fit well, which is unusual.

I bought it.

By itself.

Without an accompanying shirt.

Which means I will never wear it.

(But it fit!)

I found these tops.

And these pants.

If any of you feel led to suggest a companion to the skirt, I would be eternally grateful.

And.

Because the butchering is never far from my thoughts...

I will show you the photo of the beautiful, waif-like model that I showed Johnny Cool.

(He is dead to me.)

He said, "you can pull that off."

Unfortunately, he could not.

The end.

The Best I Have to Offer

Priorities:

1. Get the NASCAR grime off of myself.
2. Get some sleep.
3. Unpack.
4. Cry over my hair.
5. Blog.

It is 12:17 a.m. and I've just gotten home and I think I have tire residue in my hair.

I'll give you the skinny on the weekend later today.

If you want to send good thoughts for hair growth my way it would be much appreciated.

Johnny Cool is dead to me.

It's That Time Again

Guess where I am going this weekend?

HERE!!

Woo Hoo!!

Some of you might recall my slight obsession with NASCAR.

I'll ask you again...don't judge.

We all have our things.

The King left for Dallas yesterday. He had to do some work stuff.

The Princess and I are driving to Dallas with my dad today.

We are forcing my football-loving dad to endure the motor racing.

It should be interesting.

I will also be making a return visit to Johnny Cool. And wow. Do I need it. My hair is B. A. D.

I need some help. Which hairstyle do you think is the cutest?

Or are those all the same haircut?

Queen Mother sent this to me.

She wants me to wear my hair like that.

I don't know. I wonder what Johnny Cool will think?

I am also really excited about going to Anthropologie. I'm hoping that The King and my dad will take The Princess to a movie and I can have 2 uninterrupted hours in the store.

A girl can dream.

NASCAR, Johnny Cool and Anthropologie: A Perfect Weekend.