First text of the day: "Cancelled all my meetings this morning. Because of my hair."
Nevermind that I currently need piggyback rides to walk anywhere. 'merthon. It's the hair, not the legs, that matter.
So here's the story - I spent extra time yesterday taming my hair, which happens... mostly never. My daily primping is not about how can I impress the most people. It's - how can I scare the least. And with all the training I've been doing, constant ponytails and sweat removal made me feel not very feminine after awhile.
So Sunday morning after my marathon, I gave my best shot at what salons call "a blow-out." I call it, "How-to-not-get-hot-blowing-air-curling-devices-snarly-fried-in-my-hair." And that process... actually turned out very dazzling. If I had an extra 12 hours every day, sure, why not do it more?
Anyway, after church, Julie, Jordan, and I decided it was cruising time. Julie jumped on her motorcycle, and I saddled onto the back of Jordan's bike, letting my wonderfully smooth hair twirl in the wind. Obviously I wanted the whole world to see it before it never happened again.
And the ride was spectacular! Jordan and I spotted a whole zooful of animals along the route. We approached the lake at sunset. Got hit in the face with many bugs, some even tangling up in my eyelashes. I asked if he pulled apart the Lake Corndogs as a child. "The Cattails?" No, Lake Corndogs. (These) He seemed to accept that I never moved passed 3 year-old naming conventions. We basked in all the passing smells. Talked about how they reminded us of the smells in our hometowns. His were the orchards. Mine were the cows. He shared how he broke into the golf course at 2 am to go fishing and couldn't get back out because of security. And I made up a haunted tale about three people who ride into a hidden little town on the other side of the lake on motorcycles, and everyone dies in horrid ways except for the most vulnerable, which is me, because my legs are currently handicapped. He seemed to accept that I can choose myself as the only survivor if I want to. Then we planned a trip to Disneyland on a train.
It was a wonderful evening!
Then we came home. I painfully slid off his bike. And then saw my reflection in a car window.
What in HOLY TOWN!
this. But ugly and with more voltage. And bugs.
After trying to untie 3,000 tennis-ball-sized knots for 40 minutes at The Man House, I just gave up and went to bed.
Then I woke up at 6:30 with horrible anxiety thinking TODAY IS THE DAY I WILL HAVE TO CUT OFF ALL MY BLESSED HAIR! So I cancelled all my meetings to do damage control. An hour later, the mess had only expanded. My options were falling back into bed and weeping until the millennium. Or cooking some eggs.
So I scrambled with one hand and texted Lizzie with the other.
She agreed to help me, so I drove into work, and I made sure to tell the security guard my dilemma so he wouldn't think I escaped a penitentiary through an underground electrical tunnel this weekend. He responded with a - "oh you look totally fine. No one will know." Everyone is going to know! MY WHOLE LIFE AND MY UNBORN CHILDREN'S LIVES ARE FOREVER RUINED!!
I stayed in Katie's office until Lizzie arrived. Then we spent our morning with a full bottle of detangler and her hacking away at my hair. Luckily I had dark chocolate.
And now that the nightmare is over, I still have four strands of hair left. Which is enough for a braid, AND remainder of one. So we're okay!
Aaaaaaand, now I understand the whole helmet thing. Mark my word - I will never play "Salon" again.
Pay no attention to my repeat outfits. #Rathairdon'tcare.
Upward and onward,