The Many, Many, Many Verisons of... My Hair.

I really like hair. But only the hair on my head. Hair everywhere else should just stop existing. (Wouldn't that be convenient?!)

Here is my problem: I have hair ADHD.

In the last eighteen months alone I have gone through many, many hairstyles and colors. My in-laws are always surprised that my hair is different for every big family gathering. My family has stopped commenting. I think they are a little too used to it (if you know what I mean).

The funny thing is that for years I didn't touch my hair. I let it grow out and highlighted it once to twice a  year. It was a thing of beauty. I miss it terribly.

My first steps into the world of constantly changing hair was dying it red. I loved it! And then, from there, I have chopped off inches, grown it a bit and chopped it again. I have had extensions, taken them out, put them back in and taken them out.

I have come to a conclusion though... I want my beautiful long hair back. Unlike some women, my hair doesn't get all stringy and unattractive when it is long. My hair is something I have always loved and been proud of.

But, since developing hair ADHD this decision to grow my hair out has been a bit harder to keep then I would like to admit. I keep on wanting to do something to it. Anything.

It's stupid.

And it is probably fueled by the fact that I am at an awkward hair length. I have some awesome bangs, and my hair looks great in a pony tail! But if I leave it down I have the very strong feeling that it looks like I am sporting a feminine mullet.

I am not ok with this.

I have an appointment a week from Thursday. We'll see what happens between now and then. I hate wearing my hair the same way over and over and over again, so the pony tail is getting pretty old. And I am thinking it is time to go darker again...

On another note, my husband has cast his vote on his favorite hairstyle and he is definitely a fan of my long, dark hair. And, thankfully, so am I. I just hope my hair will just hurry up and grow. Like... yesterday.

Any ways, Here is a gallery of my many hairstyles over the past few years. Enjoy!

And, of course, you can always let me know what you like best! (Or just give me lots of encouragement to JUST LET IT GROW OUT ALREADY!)

Summer 2008

Fall 2008

Spring 2009

Summer 2009

Winter 2009

Spring 2010

Early Fall 2010

Summer 2010

Late Fall 2010

Spring 2011

Summer 2011

Fall 2011

Current Hairstyle

But nothing tops THIS hairstyle. Nothing.

When a New Pair of Jeans is Not a Good Thing

Ready for some honesty people? We're talking straight from the heart, raw as raw can be honesty. And I apologize if this seems to be an ongoing theme with me... But if you bear with me maybe it'll be a wee bit different than usual.

Yesterday I had to do the unthinkable: I bought a new pair of jeans. While this is usually cause for happiness (what girl doesn't love new clothes?!) it was a moment of sincere, utter heart-break. Why you ask?

I'll tell you.

I had to buy a pair of bigger jeans. In October I really hit the working out thing hard. I was consistent. I pushed myself, and by the end of November I was looking damn good. I had never been in such good shape. I had to buy new smaller jeans at the time because none of mine fit. I gleefully gave all the too-big jeans away, celebrating the fact that I was going to work my hardest to never need them again.

Then came Christmas. I had two weeks with my husband and then he left, and when he left depression set up camp. My schedule changed and it was harder to work out at night. It was nearly impossible to get up in the morning and work out as well. I did try, but not my hardest. I let excuse after excuse crowd its way into my head, pushing all of my good intentions out the door.

I feebly tried to work out every day, but soon it turned into twice a week, then once a week. Then once every two weeks. And suddenly, March comes and there are days when I can forsake forgiving sweatshirts, sweaters and vests for short sleeve shirts. I had been putting on my jeans more and more reluctantly, in denial that a muffin top was well on its way and then finally here. But when I pulled on my favorite pair of skinny jeans and looked in the mirror, I found myself in tears.

I yelled at my closet, furious that my clothes didn't fit. I tore off the jeans and cursed them for shrinking in the washer. I sobbed in frustration at the unfairness of the world. Just a few months ago I was at the top of my game. And now... Now I was an irrational mess worse off than when I started trying six months ago.

I hope not many people have gotten to this point. It isn't a pretty place. I was supposed to go to a family St Patrick's Day party, but I was almost ready to lock myself in my room and not come out because I didn't look good in  anything!

I can't remember when I have ever been so crushed in all my life.

And so, I took myself to the thrift store to buy some new jeans. I refused to invest any real money in them because they were only temporary. I would not be trapped in them long. I would be back in my adorable clothes in no time.

But if I was going to do that, it was finally time to take a good, hard, long look at myself and see where the issues really lie. What was it that put me into this never ending cycle of trying, giving up, crying, trying, giving up, crying.... I want it to stop. NOW.

Here is what I realized: I don't want to get skinny, fit and toned to fit anyone elses' idea of what is beautiful. I do want to be my best for my husband, but that sweet man has made it perfectly clear he likes me just the way I am. So why am I so desperate to be in shape?

I want to be in shape for these reasons: Because I know I can! I am disappointing myself because I know I can. It is well within my reach, but I seem to fall short every single time I try. It is how I am supposed to be. Not because the media demands it, but because I demand it. I wasn't born to be dissatisfied with how I look. And I know I should accept myself the way I am, and I am trying. But the truth is, I know I can do more. And, frankly, I am not delivering.

Another reason? I just want to wear my clothes!!!! I want to go shopping and not absolutely dread going into the dressing room. I want to be able to pull off just about every style.

And, of course, I just want to be healthy.

So I am not doing this for anyone else but myself.  And dagnabit I am going to do it! I have a plan brewing. A plan that involves one of the wonderful people in my life helping me out. I have come to the point where I am ready to ask for help. And I have been blessed with a wonderful support system. I will probably fall on my face a few more times, but that isn't going to stop me from trying.

I know I can do better, and I will.

Happy Birthday Stephen!!!!

As you might have guessed, it is my husband's birthday today. He is turning old.

Just kidding.

He isn't that old (though I am totally going to video his panic attack when he turns 25).

On not very special occasions, and special occasions, I like to write absolutely horrible, corny poetry. It's kind of my thing. And to honor the wonderful man who was brave enough to marry me, I have written him an ode!

 
Ode to My Husband On His Birthday
Christmas is awesome
Easter is too
But the best day ever
Is the day I met you

Some guys are funny
Others are hot
But you, my dear husband
Has all talent's got

Of all of the people
That mamas have made
You are my favorite
Each and every day

Your body is sexy
Your mind is so sharp
You make makin' babies
One awesome sport!

Even though Bach
Was born on this day as well
I think you're cooler
You're sure jolly and swell

You are my superhero
My world and my heart
You're charming and suave
And incredibly, super hot

Stephen I thank you
For being born on today
For you've made my life
A dream all the way




I am so glad I found this incredible man! I mean, it isn't very often you find a man who can do things like this with you:









Or This: 

 

And This: 

And still be able to inspire, love, support and encourage me to be the best me every day.

(And he looks hott too!)



I love you Stephen! I wish I could be there for your birthday. I wish we didn't have to be apart on yet another holiday for our family, but I am so proud of you for doing so well in  your training and serving your country. You truly are my superhero, my best friend, the love of my life and the best thing that has ever happened to me.

Thank you for being born!

Why are we so bad at this?!

Stephen and I aren't ugly people by any means. And I would say we have relatively healthy self-esteems. And yet, for some reason, we rarely if ever take pictures to document the events in our lives.

Some people have a natural ability to take cute, candid pictures of Christmas, birthdays, outings and even hanging out at home.

We do not.

I think we have all of two pictures from Christmas. We realized that this was an issue for us, so we are really trying hard to document our lives! On our trip to Tuscon recently (which I haven't written about and probably won't... Just know it was the best four days of my life and consisted mainly of eating, walking around, going to Tombstone, a rodeo and just enjoying being right next to my husband.) we tried really really hard to get pictures.

Well, even though I had charged the stupid thing, the camera was dead. Thankfully we have camera's on our phones! We tried pretty hard to get pictures. And I mean really hard. I think we ended up with a good seven pictures for four days of being in a beautiful area, an awesome cowboy town and all of that.

At Stephen's First Rodeo!

So, it is a goal of ours to try and actually get pictures from our adventures.

And you know the ironic part of all of this? I have this awesome book that I started writing in two weeks after I started dating Stephen. I have pictures from the second time we hung out, the movie ticket stub from the day he asked me to be his girlfriend, a program from the Greek festival, ticket stubs from various movies and events we've attended and whatever pictures we have managed to take. I absolutely love this book. it would be the first thing I would grab in a fire. I want to show it to my children. I LOVE that thing.

So now I just need to take more pictures to put in there so that, some day, my kids can look at my hair styles and ask, "Mom! Why would you ever do your hair like that?!"

Anyone have any ideas on how to be better about picture taking?

The Bad Luck Continues...

For Christmas, my sweet husband bought me this beautiful necklace. It has three charms on it, one for each of our birth stones and then this wonderful little charm made of beaten silver with the etching "Rily" on it. (Rily stands for Remember I Love You).

This necklace means the world to me. I love it. So when my cat ate my birthday charm I was a little put out. At least I had the two most important things still, Stephen's charm and my Rily charm.

Well, last night my bad karma struck again (and so did my cat). I was taking the necklace off when my cat tried to put her paws on my chest. The necklace went flying and the charms disappeared. I heard a faint clanking, and my heart sank.

After searching the bathroom high and low, I found Stephen's birthday charm. But the silver one was no where in site. I kept on telling myself that id hadn't fallen down the sink. It just hadn't. It had to be somewhere. But after searching futilely for a very long time I had to come to the conclusion that it had indeed fallen down the deep, dark hole of my bathroom sink.

I pulled the stopper out carefully, looked down the hole and thought I saw a glimmer of silver. I had a very long magnet strip that I brought out. I hoped that it would pick it up. No such luck. I tied sticky tack it up blue stuff to a paper clip and some floss. Didn't pick it up either. I got out my kitchen tongs. Nada. My fingers wouldn't quite reach.

It was that moment that I realized I must of shoved it down farther. And my heart sunk down to my toes. I pulled out the many, many, many half empty bottles from  underneath the sink, got a large bowl and took the sink apart. Disgusting slime and gross sludge came oozing from the sink. It was so revolting. But I kept at it. I pushed my long magnet up the pipe and scrapped the edges. I cleaned out the trap. I tried not to puke at the green masses of hair and other unrecognizable bits that were collecting in the bowl.

After a while, I realized everything was cleaned out. I looked into the sludge sloshing around in the bowl and realized... I would have to sift through it. Over an hour had passed at this point and I was beyond the point of caring. I thrust my fingers into the mass of vomitrotciousness and started sifting. After half an hour, I had to realize that it was no use. I had lost it.

I cleaned up the bathroom in utter defeat. I didn't even have the energy to cry. After putting everything to rights (and noticing how much faster the sink drained) I started taking the bobby pins out of my hair. I opened my top drawer and low and behold, in a little metal box my bobby pins go in was the charm.

Did I curse? No. Did I look to the heavens in despair and gratitude? Yes. I can't believe I spent so much time looking for something that was sitting safely in the drawer the whole time. It just goes to show you, you've got to look close and never give up. Even if it means some invasive, amateur plumbing.

P.S. - this week I also managed to get the mother of all bloody noses. No idea how it started or why. Talk about annoying. I almost went to the hospital I lost so much blood and couldn't get it to stop.

P.P.S. - Did I mention that this week was my spring break and I have spent almost all of it on the couch being so sick I wish I could die?

P.P.P.S. - The End.

A Few Months Sabbatical

Hello world! Sorry about the delay... I didn't mean to fall off the face of the earth or anything. After Christmas break and spending time with Stephen I kind of retreated into the cave. (The Cave - n. A place of hiding and wallowing in self pity when a sad event has occurred. Usually accompanied by loss of interest in the world, weight gain and much watching of TV).

But! I'm back. Very much so. And doing better than ever (minus a horrible, rotten, no good, awful, stupid cold).

To catch the world up on life, here are a few things that have happened since we last talked (well since I last talked. Y'all don't say very much)
- School
- Work
- More school
- More work

Man, my life is boring. That and I don't exactly remember all of my various adventures.

Anywhoo, I do have a couple of things to talk about. Forgive me if I wax long and lyrical. (Ok, maybe not lyrical, but it sounded pretty good.)

I have had monstrously bad luck the past week. Stephen surprised me with a visit home last weekend! This was of course the same weekend my body decided it was high time we got sick. The whole weekend he was here I was running a fever, had a blinding headache and was losing my voice in small degrees. I wanted to find my karma and give it a piece of my mind, and then solve world hunger to get back on it's good side.

After Stephen left I got so sick I ended up in the Doctor's office. I had a horrible, horrible sore throat and sinuses so blocked we would need to bring back the Union Pacific Rail Road company to open them up again. And I had lost my voice so completely I could barely whisper. My throat was so inflamed and congested and icky that they were worried I would do some damage to my vocal chords (stop that cheering! I would still talk lots, it would just be in a hoarse, whispery voice). I ended up with some crazy strong cough syrup and nasal stuff. We're talking, I couldn't drive on that stuff. It was pretty awesome.

Well, same night as the fateful doctor's visit I was driving one of my dear friends home (cough medicine had worn off) and on the way home we say a gaggle of ducks. It was random. There is no pond or anything near by. But there was a farm-like place so I figured they belonged there. Well, after dropping her off I turned around and was on the road when out of nowhere this duck tried to take off in front of me.

Sad to say, I killed a duck. I pulled to the side of the road to see how hurt it was. It was flapping and quacking and limping and flailing about. It ended up on the side of the road, twitching and.... dying. All of it's duck friends came up and were prodding it with its head, quacking in a very worried fashion. And then... nothing. It was dead. I was devastated. I cried. I had killed my favorite animal. And what do you do when you kill a duck? There was no collar, it was really late... I couldn't go knocking on the door apologizing for hitting their duck. I just feel so bad that I took this duck from it's duck friends. It was awful.

Rest in peace my little duck friend.

(More on my bad luck in the next post!)