Underwhelming Response

This is a post I won’t share on Facebook. It’s just between you and me. My feelings are hurt, and I feel unreasonably angry, so help me know how to handle this situation.

Studly Doright has been working in Orlando all this week and is set to return home tonight. He called last evening to give me an update, and we chatted for a few minutes before he had to meet his coworkers for dinner.

I told him I’d gotten my haircut and jokingly said, “You might mistake me for a Bob or a Tom when you get home.”


“Are you still there?” I asked.

“Yeah. I’m probably not going to like it.”

Just like that, my night felt ruined. I stammered something, trying to laugh it off, but it hurt and now I’m dreading seeing him when he arrives home tonight.

So, how would you have reacted? How do I handle his homecoming?

Haircut Today!

My last haircut was April 3rd. The last time I had my hair color enhanced (aka dyed) was three weeks before that. Today is May 31. To say that I’ve begun looking a little unkempt would be an massive understatement.

I wear my hair really short, so my normal routine consists of a haircut every three weeks and color every six weeks. I’ve been sick since the beginning of May, though, and had to cancel my regular appointments. This is a reasonable approximation of my current look:

Add more gray to the fur, and that’s me.

My appointment isn’t until 11:30, but I set my alarm for 6:00 a.m. and was awake well before that. I’m jumping for joy, but only mentally, because at my age, physically jumping for joy could be hazardous to my health. I could do it, but I might not be able to walk for a week. And nothing is going to keep me from this appointment.

In my stead, here are inspiring photos of others expressing their joy. Enjoy their joy!

Peace (and joy) people!

Shaggy and Nutty

I was supposed to have gotten my hair cut and colored on May 8, but I was still battling diverticulitis and had to cancel my appointment. I called my stylist and broke into sobs as I left a message telling her I was too sick to make the 45 minute drive to Blountstown.

She called the next day to reschedule my appointment and I believe I detected a note of wariness in her voice. I can’t say I blame her. What kind of loon cries when she cancels a haircut? Her earliest opening was on the 31st, and I’m counting the minutes until I look like me again instead of this shaggy gray crone I see when I look in a mirror.

Part of me is a little worried that she’ll have the men in white coats waiting to carry me away. Hey, as long as she cuts and colors my hair first, I’m fine with that. I’ll be the best coiffed chick in the home.

How Short Is It?

My new haircut is so short…

…that it was completely dry before I stepped out of the shower.

…that the North Carolina potty police would eye me suspiciously were I to use the loo there.

…that polite children under the age of five will call me “sir.”

…that Dumbo is jealous of my ear size.

…that I’m thankful for my DD breasts.

…that having a cuter face would be nice.

…that I like it, while at the same time it needs to grow a bit before I love it.

No makeup, just me. Look at those freckles!!! Where’s my medal for bravery?

Peace, people.