Other

I had an appointment to get my hair cut this past Wednesday, but in spite of all the hair wisdom y’all shared last week, I was on the fence about whether or not to get bangs.

So Tuesday night I turned to P, sighed loudly and said, “I don’t know what to do about my hair.”

(To his credit he turned and looked at me like he was actually interested.)

“What do you mean?

“Well, I don’t know if I want to get bangs or just leave it alone.”

“What do bangs look like?”

“What? What do you mean what do bangs look like? They look like bangs. Like this.”, I said as I pulled a few pieces of very long hair across my forehead in an attempt to create the illusion of bangs.

“Yeah, that doesn’t really help. Tell me the pros and cons of bangs.”

(For the record this entire conversation never would have happened if there had been ANYTHING on T.V.)

I listed the various pros and cons of bangs with involved details regarding humidity, frizz, and an unfortunate cowlick. Finally P said, “Haven’t you gotten bangs before and then regretted it immediately?”

“Yes. But it wasn’t so much immediate regret as 48-hours-later-regret.”

“I think you have your answer.”

He is the cool head of reason in the midst of all my turmoil.

And also the wind beneath my wings.

Caroline went with me to the beauty shop on Wednesday because I’d scheduled back-to-back appointments for us at her request. When we got there she informed me that she wanted to go first. It was too late when I realized this was so she could spend my entire haircut experience asking, “How much longer until we leave?” while simultaneously complaining about being hungry in spite of the fact that she bogarted about six Pepperidge Farm Milano cookies before we left the house.

Amazingly, her hunger totally disappeared the minute our hairdresser asked her if she’d like a piece of Laffy Taffy. Of course everyone knows that there is nothing more filling or satisfying than a bite-size piece of taffy.

Anyway, Caroline was first up in the chair. I told our hairdresser I wanted her to cut Caroline’s hair a little bit shorter than usual, like maybe to right below her shoulders. Now that it’s almost summer (ALMOST being the key word. Dang you Department of Education.) and all our days will be spent at the pool, I don’t want the nightly drama that naturally occurs whenever there’s a comb and tangle-free spray involved. Oh the humanity of a mother who believes in good grooming.

I was a little worried that Caroline would freak out, but when she saw herself in the mirror she got a big smile on her face. About that time my hairdresser said, “Do you want me to cut bangs or just leave it all one length?”

After pausing for a minute I said “Just leave it”, but then Caroline looked up at the hairdresser and said in a calm, even voice, “I WANT BANGS.”

She dared to go where her mama was afraid to go.

So for the first time since she was three years old, she has bangs.

There are no words to describe the amount of sassy she feels with her new look or how many times she’s admired herself in the mirror, but when I asked her to pose for a picture with her new bangs this is what I got.

I think it’s safe to say she feels no bang regret.

And I don’t know if she’s ever looked cuter.

As for me, I got two inches trimmed off the back. She obviously didn’t inherit her hair courage from me.

Of course I don’t think she got it from P either considering his hair hasn’t changed in the fifteen years I’ve known him.

She is a coiffure maverick.

Y’all have a great Friday.

(On a totally different note, I’d totally forgotten that I never answered any of the questions that y’all asked in the comments of a post I wrote over a month ago. My goal is to answer at least of few of them sometime next week because I believe it’s good to have goals.)

Do you know how tired I am?

The kind of tired that makes you want to put a pillow over your head and go to sleep for days.

Apparently, I’m not the only one.

Of course the difference is that my arms are too sore to actually pick up a pillow and put it on top of my head.

It doesn’t really take a media savvy person to realize that there are two evil pandemics sweeping the country right now: the swine flu and Jillian Michael’s 30 Day Shred.

I don’t know much about the swine flu, other than the fact that I believe pigs everywhere are being slandered for reasons that are beyond their control and we may all turn into Howard Hughes if the media doesn’t shut up and find something else to obsess over.

Here’s a new topic for them: Why won’t Anthropologie send me a dishtowel since I link to their site constantly? Is it some sort of haberdashery prejudice because I am a thirty-something mom and totally uncool in their eyes?

I believe the answer is yes and that, my friends, is fashion profiling.

Anyway, unlike swine flu, I do have some experience with the 30 Day Shred. As a matter of fact, yesterday was Day 2 for me and, if I live to see the sun rise again, today will be Day 3.

God willing and my quadricep muscles don’t explode.

I can’t remember when I first heard someone mention the 30 Day Shred, but I remember thinking they were kind of overly dramatic about the whole thing. And if there is one thing I cannot tolerate, other than reruns of “Golden Girls” and water chestnuts, it’s someone being too dramatic. It makes me WANT TO PULL OUT ALL MY HAIR AND SET IT ON FIRE.

In fact, I vaguely recall thinking that I was the master of the “Fat Burning Pilates” DVD and have reached the point where I easily keep up with smug girl in the green sports bra (as I so affectionately refer to her), so what could 30 Day Shred possibly have to offer me?

Then I read this post by Vicki where she mentioned that she was on Day 11 of the shred and her teenage son walked in and mentioned that she had developed real live ab muscles. I haven’t seen my ab muscles since the second month of my pregnancy with Caroline so I figured the 30 Day Shred might be worth looking into.

But then I just felt too tired to order the DVD from Amazon. Not to mention all the effort it would take to actually open up all the cellophane packaging and place it in my DVD player.

However, Jillian and I had a date with destiny because as I innocently walked the aisles of Target last week, I happened up on the exercise equipment aisle where I saw her staring me down, perhaps even taunting me. I had no recourse but to buy the 30 Day Shred and some lime green hand weights. Thankfully we have a nice padded oriental rug in the living room so I didn’t have to buy a mat, although I wanted to because it was hot pink and oh-so-cute.

I decided to wait until Monday to start my new workout regime because I am firm believer in procrastination, especially when it comes to anything regarding physical exertion. Why sweat today when you can sweat tomorrow?

Then all of a sudden it was Monday and I knew it was time to shred. In a pure stroke of fortuitousness, I talked to Sophie on the phone and she mentioned that she’d also purchased the 30 Day Shred and was going to do it for the first time that afternoon. I believe that each of us laughed and said, “It’s ONLY TWENTY MINUTES! How hard can it be?”

I got off the phone and turned on the DVD. There was Jillian going on and on about pain is fear leaving your body and blah, blah, blah. She suggested that everyone start at Level One. I decided I’d start at Level One to appease Jillian and her cut-off sweatpants, but figured I was really way past that since I’ve been fairly consistent with my Fat Burning Pilates and elliptical workouts.

And by fairly consistent, I mean I’ve done them four or two times each.

Level One was an experiment in PURE HATE. I can’t confirm this, but I am fairly certain it is something akin to what the CIA uses to get terrorists to talk. The static lunges with bicep curl combo is enough to get me to admit to anything I’ve ever done wrong in my life, including the time I stole a Brach’s peppermint candy when I was four years old.

To add insult to total muscular injury, Caroline stood by as my cheerleader/heckler. Do you know what’s more aggravating than some muscular girl from a T.V. show taunting you with the fact that a 450 pound person can do more jumping jacks than you?

A five-year-old girl that you gave birth to asking if you “FEEL THE BURNING MAMA” over 100 times in a three second time period.

She even got the camera and took some pictures of me while I was working out.

This is the only one that’s fit for public viewing because in all the others you can see the profanity coming out of my head like the little thought bubbles in a cartoon.

When I finished, I collapsed in a big heap on the couch and in the words of Fred Sanford said, “I’m comin’ Elizabeth. This is the big one.”

But I survived and felt compelled to do Day 2.

In fact, I am determined to complete all thirty days of the shred even if it leaves me completely incapable of standing upright or reaching for a bag of Cheetos.

On the downside, there is a muscle in my upper arms that I never knew existed but is now screaming in pain and has requested abdication from the rest of my body.

On the upside, I’m not afraid of any kind of swine flu.

If anything is going to kill me in the next thirty days, my money is on Jillian Michaels and not some lame pig virus.

Make sure you head to Compassion Bloggers to read all the posts coming out of India. They are phenomenal.

I’ve never really been accused of being spontaneous. I mean, I’m not necessarily opposed to making spur of the moment decisions as long as I have time to compile a lengthy list of all the various pros and cons of the aforementioned impulsive action.

So when we decided to go down to William and Erin’s ranch on Thursday night, as opposed to Friday afternoon as originally planned, it was bold move. Especially considering that the weather forecast called for a 105% chance of rain and thunderstorms. But what do weathermen know?

Apparently, they knew A LOT.

Due to all the torrential rain and lightning, we didn’t end up doing much fishing. However, there was a lot of this.

That’s Caroline running back and forth between the barn and the house in the pouring rain. Before the day was over she was on her fifth change of clothes. One pair of jeans was so muddy that I was tempted to just burn them in effigy.

Anyway, we had a great time but our weekend was far from over. Caroline and I left the ranch on Friday night around 6:30 in the evening because I wanted to get home before dark, even though it meant I had to miss out on the big crawfish boil that was taking place that evening. I can’t think about it for too long or I’ll cry at the thought of all the spicy crawfish I didn’t get to eat.

On Saturday morning, Gulley and I loaded up the kids and headed to College Station to take them to an Aggie baseball game that evening. We almost let the ominous clouds steal our joy but we are optimists at heart so we forged on, fortified by occasional glimpses of sunshine and a multitude of Diet Cokes.

Even though at one point Gulley had to threaten the backseat with the fact that we know plenty of babysitters in the Bryan/College Station area who could stay home with whoever decided to keep whining and fighting.

When we arrived at Honey and Big’s house, we were greeted with a huge tray of sandwiches and some hot crab dip that may have changed my life and definitely had an impact on my hips. Best of all, Nena was there to join us for lunch and I could sit and listen to Nena for hours.

At one point during lunch, Nena made a comment about how beautiful Caroline’s teeth are and how much she values good teeth. I told her I hoped they’d stay that way because I already spent all our allotted orthodontia money on myself. Then Nena said, “Honey, listen, I hate to speak ill of the dead, but my mother-in-law had the worst teeth I’ve ever seen.”

And it made me feel that all the trauma, pain and expense of my adult orthodontia was worth it because I’d hate to think people would be talking about my teeth even after I’m dead and buried.

Later that evening, we went to Olsen Field to watch the Aggies play Nebraska. There is honestly not another place I’d rather be on a Saturday evening in the spring. It’s magic and hasn’t really changed in the last twenty years, except that I’m now old enough to be the mother of the baseball players which is really depressing.

Granted, I’d have had to be a teen mother, but still the math works without it being any kind of qualification for the Guiness Book of World Records.

Also, I don’t recognize a lot of the songs they play at the field because some of them are that new rap music the kids are so fond of these days.

Not to mention that the popcorn gets stuck in my dentures.

Caroline and Jackson were so excited for the game to start.

Will was just excited for the cotton candy and the kettle corn which is where he was when the picture was taken.

The Aggies won 10-1, but the real winner was the concession stand who made untold amounts of money through our eating efforts. I’ll just go on record and say I had the best hotdog I’ve had in years. Even Caroline ate an entire hot dog by herself which is more than she’s eaten for the last three weeks combined.

When we woke up Sunday morning, Big had gone to Shipley’s for a kolache and chocolate donut run. Breakfast of champions. Breakfast of champions with high cholesterol and arteriosclerosis.

Gulley and I began to talk about what time we should hit the road for the trip back to San Antonio. We decided it would probably be best to leave around noon so we could get home with plenty of time to unwind and get ready for the week. That was the wise and sensible thing to do.

Look where we found ourselves instead.

We experienced a complete fit of uncharacteristic spontaneity and decided it would be fun to stay in town and go to the last game in the series at 1:00.

It was so fly-by-the-seat-of-our-pants and devil-may-care that I felt like we were in college again, except we traded the beer for three kids, two husbands, and a couple of thirty-year mortgages.

We packed up the car, went back to the baseball field and watched the Aggies beat Nebraska 10-1 AGAIN. It was about the most glorious weather you can imagine and I celebrated with another hot dog because apparently I am trying to kill myself with a steady diet of processed pork with a side of cotton candy.

Totally worth it.

I also may have eaten some peanuts as evidenced by the cuff of my jeans.

I didn’t use the cuff as a peanut shell receptacle on purpose. I also didn’t intend for my sunglasses to sit totally crooked on my face. Gulley pointed it out to me because she couldn’t take anything I said seriously. Instead of looking like Tammy Taylor from “Friday Night Lights” in my Ray-Ban knock-offs, I looked like Harry Caray.

Actually, I looked more like Will Ferrell playing Harry Caray.

We were all so happy to be there. Even Caroline and Will were totally in love yesterday.

And when it was all said and done, the kids got to run the bases.

I just wish we could do it again tomorrow.

Our plan to brainwash them into becoming future Aggies is working beautifully.

We’re down at a friend’s ranch tonight. It’s 12:10 a.m. and while I have managed to find a few links for various fashion items, I haven’t put them into any kind of actual narrative structure because we’re having way too much fun.

Also, thanks to my friend Erin, I found myself all caught up in the search for the world’s softest hoodie. In fact, I am still searching.

My point is that I will get Fashion Friday up by noon today. I guarantee it.

And if I find the world’s softest hoodie, I’ll let you know.