Of no longer living in the Target parking lot.
The struggle is already real. I don’t think I’ll survive Canada.
As I once ended a sorority email to my chapter, “Taste the rainbkw, bitches!”
Fuck yeah, SCOTUS. Epic day, America.
Two men-of-Bond have recently taken their final bow, and I need to pay respects.
Christopher Lee played one of the few very Bond-worthy villains as the tri-nippled Francisco Scaramanga. And until his death, I had no clue he was also the dastardly LOTR wizard!
Thanks for the memories, guys.
-Lew Ashby, Californication
So, back in 2011 I had this amazing hair. It was crazy long. I wore it to a wedding and afterward thought, “Maybe too long.” So I cut it a bit, and wrote about it, alluding to the fact I find a lot of security in my long hair.
For the next three years I opted for a deep clean, you might say, of cutting more-than-just-a-trim once per year as a celebration of the end of wedding season. But I was really just wanting to grow it out again. Finally, in 2015, I got back to my glory days of naked-video-style hair.
I was thrilled. It needed a trim, though, those dry ends were killing me. So, I made an appointment (accidentally at the wrong stylist) the day after returning from a 3 week trip in non-English-speaking Europe.
It’s clear that I was having (lack of) control issues there, because here’s what I looked like twenty four hours after being back in the States.
I’m glad to have challenged my own body image (probably bad timing, though) and tried something new, with time left until winter wedding season. It’s only hair, after all, and I’m moving to a new country where no one knows me as Rapunzel, anyway, right?!
But, honestly, this look is too, “Midwest Mom” for me. Too “I don’t care about my hair.” Too “90s JGL” as well, which, coincidentally, was the last time I had hair this short. Just pass me the butterfly clips so I can do a twist crown to complement my baby-tee and baggy jeans with Docs. Commence Operation Grow Out Part 3.
It wasn’t easy, but it had to be done.
We had some steamy, inappropriate times. I mean, we started out with Californication. And that whole Mad Men sharing thing was a total bootycall cover.
Goodbye, Netflix DVDs.