Vanity, Vanity

I cut off my hair again. This traumatic event occurs about every 5 years, and it's only traumatic for my husband. I introduce the subject of how much I hate my hair and mention that I'd really like to shave it all off. He argues that he LIKES LONG HAIR; I retort that he must like STRINGY, FRIZZY, UNSTYLED LONG HAIR because that's what I have. We go 'round and 'round for several weeks, until I finally wear him down and he mutters, "Fine. Do what you want." I always planned to . . . just needed his blessing.

The five-year interval has never been conscious or planned. Yes, I am a control freak, but I don't sit around scheduling my haircuts five years in advance. In fact, I never even realized I was cutting my hair every 5 years until recently, when I started feeling the need to shave my head again, and began recalling previous coiffes.

My first big chop was in junior high. I visited my very first hair salon ever and asked for the Dorothy Hamill wedge. The next transformation occured when I was 18; I don't remember the details, but I know I removed my long brunette locks because I have a snapshot of me sitting in my dorm room with super short hair grinning like a weirdo college freshman. Then every 4 or 5 years after that, I'd do it again. I had a really cute, spiky style in the 90s that I just loved; I'd dyed my hair black for a part in a play, and I felt very edgy with my slightly goth look.

My last short hair occurred when I was pregnant with the twins, and felt like a cow. A slightly disabled cow. No, make that a small house. I felt like a house had fallen on top of me and two people were still living in it, moving around inside, shaking the entire structure. And no one would let me just lay down and rest with this house on top of me. No, I had to keep walking around and bending over to pick up bags of groceries and pushing the vacuum across the living room floor and driving my daughters to and from school, all with a big ol' house crushing me. Actually, I like the cow analogy better.

I was a big cow with a sore back and aching hooves. And my hair was like a mutated mane of some sort that made me feel hot and exhausted and more cow-ish. So I cut it all off and felt much better.

But it's grown back.

I know it's difficult to notice my hair when you're mesmerized by the slenderness of my hips, but try to focus, people!

I took something like 20 pictures, trying to get my entire head into the frame. I finally gave up. A self-portrait artist I am not. Anyway, here's my short hair, which I would like to remind my husband is not really THAT short. I've had much shorter, so he needs to SHAKE IT OFF.

It'll grow back, sweetheart.



Dinner last night: chicken and garlic pizza

Exactly one year ago:

Memory Replacement Theory

Exactly two years ago:

What a Difference a Day Makes . . .

To My Four Faithful Readers, I Salute You!

Well, whaddya know? Today is my blog's 2-year anniversary. As usual with me and any momentous occasion, I don't remember it's coming until the day it arrives; I was getting ready to publish an entirely different post this morning, went to add the "Exactly One Year Ago" link at the end, and . . . oh! exactly one year ago I was celebrating my first anniversary. And by "celebrating" I mean "mentioning how I'd forgotten it was my anniversary."

Two years. Normally, I'd sniff at a measly two years. I've got split ends that are older than that. I've been wearing the same bra for longer than two years. I've got a wart on my foot . . .  oh, give it a rest, Kim. I have to admit, though, that in the blogosphere two years is actually a sort of accomplishment. That's what I tell myself, anyway. I have seen so many great blogs come and go in the short time I've been online; who knew that my little site o' drivel would hang in there? Will power, people! Self discipline! Or possibly delusion! and misguided use of free time!

I started this blog in total and complete anonymity. You could have knocked me over with a feather when I received my first comment, which of course was from a random stranger, since I hadn't told anyone I knew about my little writing adventure. I honestly didn't realize how important my readership would become to me—no man is an island, and all that. I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for checking in on a regular basis. You really are the reason I'm still here after two years . . . turns out that writing by and for one's self isn't all that gratifying.

In honor of this 2-year milestone, I will be adding a new feature. You think "Dinner Last Night" is exciting? You can't believe the genius of "Exactly One Year Ago"? Well, now I've come up with "Exactly TWO Years Ago." Enjoy.

And thanks again. I really, really mean it.



Dinner last night: Polish sausages and spinach

Exactly one year ago:

Happy Blogiversary to Me

Exactly two years ago:
Here We Go . . .

Cuter than a Pair of Drunken Circus Clowns

Click on arrow to play.

Dinner last night: mac and cheese, green peas