Looks Like I Picked the Wrong Week to Stop Injecting Smack Into my Eyeballs

When last we spoke, I was a bit vomit-y. I had just finished telling Dave (smugly, yet nicely) how much I feel "free" when he is not here, then a few hours later I had to beg him to come home. I was SICK.

Then I got better, Rocco and his lip and his cough improved, so I decided to drive the hour down to the hair appointment I have been cancelling for months now.

Yesterday was the second time I've got my hair did in a year. I was soooo looking forward to it.

Confession: I get my hair coloured, sometimes. Apparently, when you have red hair, it just fades and fades, the older you get. I like giving it a lil "pick-me-up". A subtle one, so people can't often tell that I get it dyed or not. Nicole Kidman is letting hers go blonde, frankly I don't like it. I prefer red.

You know that scene in Bride Wars, when Kate Hudson watches the towel getting lifted off in the hairdresser? And her hair is blue? And she goes, "My hair is blue! BLUE!"

Well, yesterday, the hairdresser lifted the towel off my head, I sat there gobsmacked, looking in the mirror. She starts talking a million miles an hour about some crap, and I'm like, "Uhhhhh, Tanya? I look like Ronald McDonald. RONALD MCDONALD!!"

She shat her pants and scurried off to call the dye company, while I sat there looking at my bright, neon orange hair. The whole hairdressers went quiet. All the customers were straining their necks to look at the poor orange-haired woman, I think to order their McHappy Meals. I did what I always do in times of exteme anger/fear/sadness ...... start uncontrollably crying.

I've had my hair done at this place religiously for three years, never has there been a problem before. I had bright motherfucking orange hair. She came back, stuttering that nobody picked up, so now she has to put a grey dye on my hair. GREY. I cried more, she's like, oh, oh! I wiped away my tears with my leopard print scarf, telling her it's cool, it's only hair, I'm crying because I'm sleep deprived.

I told myself to stop crying like a BAY-BEE, a plane just went down in the ocean last week, and I'm worried about my stupid hair!? But's it's not just my hair, I'm a bit sick of planning and looking forward to something so very much and it all backfires in my face. Like, looking forward to the birth of your baby and then your husband gets diagnosed with cancer, for example.

So my hair looks SHITHOUSE, and I had to still pay for the CUT. (But not the colour, Eden! I'll let my boss know why I gave you that for free!!) Gee, thank you for the privilege of paying $59 for being traumatised. It's so so dark, I may as well make a little sign with arrows pointing to it exclaiming "DYED HAIR!"

Then other stuff happened yesterday which is sad and scary, etc etc. Then, Rocco slept through but Max comes in at 3am ... vomiting!! WOOOOOT.

__

OMG I just received a text from the hair salon, asking me to confirm my appointment next week. This is what I just wrote back:

"Are you serious? I had to PAY for the pleasure of getting my hair ruined yesterday."

I took a photo to show you. Obviously I couldn't show you my face, as after all that crying I look 100 years old. It almost looks ok in this photo ... but in direct sunlight it has PURPLE tones.

*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
*







Excuse me, but this vain bitch has to take her other sick son to the doctor. Bile STINKS.

Oh ... and by the way .... winter? You can kiss my freezing, goose-pimply ARSE.