Pages

Because sometimes a status update just isn't enough.

Because sometimes a status update just isn't enough.

26 October 2011

Naked Truth

I'm pretty sure I have some sort of disease that causes me to do incredibly stupid shit to my hair when I get overly tired, overly bored, overly hungry, overly stressed, overly happy, overly sad, overly passive, or overly normal.  This isn't something new... I've had it for as long as I can remember.  I'm afraid it's terminal.



The first episode I recall was when I was about 7 and I cut my sister's doll's hair.

She had a "Puddin'" Madame Alexander baby doll that she named "Cindy."  I have no idea what came over me and I don't specifically remember cutting her hair (I think I blacked out or something) but I do remember the back-lash.  It wasn't pretty.  There was crying (my sister... seriously, what was the big deal?  I cut MY dolls hair ALL THE TIME and didn't cry like that... Drama Queen), yelling and threats to take away all my favorite toys (my mother), and denial (me... I mean, even though there was no one else in the house to blame, I flatly denied doing it and even, at one point, blamed my sister for doing it and then pointing the finger at me).


I don't recall my punishment but I'm pretty sure it was harsh.

But it also didn't deter me.

Because next?  I cut my bangs.

I was grounded from scissors and there is a noticeable chunk missing from the side of my hair in my 1st grade school picture. (I also had a missing front tooth, so it actually was not a bad look.)

I continued on in my career as a self-proclaimed stylist by having random moments of bangs chopping, the most notable when I used my mother's thread clippers in 6th grade to give myself a "trim."

After a series of panicked over-corrections, I wound up with bangs that were, at best, 1" long, crooked, and disappearing into my hair-line.  Sadly, (for me, anyway), my mother used that moment as a Lesson.  After I was through sobbing, bawling, and feeling horribly sorry for myself because I wound up with a stupid hair cut (by my own hand, which just adds insult to injury, ya know?) I begged her to take me to the salon and have them "fix it."  (Hair extensions had not, as far as I know, been invented yet in the early 1970s, at least not for 12 year olds, so I'm not sure exactly what I expected them to do, but there had to be something, right?)  My mother said Horribly Cruel Things to me along the lines of, "I'm GLAD you messed your bangs up!  Now maybe you'll leave your hair alone!" and "I just wish it would STAY that way... then you'd stop cutting your hair!" and "What do you expect them to do?   Glue it back on?"  (My mother can be vicious.  Vicious.)

I was the New Girl In School that year and was struggling to fit in, so showing up with ugly hair was just one more way for me to feel like a freak that year.  (12 is a really horrible age, people.  My mother should have bought me a wig.  It's the least she could have done.)

However, the Lesson was not learned...

Because I continued cutting my own hair, with disastrous results, for the next 36 years.  

Which leads me to today.

As you probably already know, if you've read my blog for any length of time, I have The World's Worse Insomnia.  My insomnia is legendary, beginning when I was very young and continuing on throughout my life.  I think the only time I've fallen immediately to sleep was after being in labor for 5 days while giving birth to my first child.  (I literally looked at the baby, accepted a cup of ice water because I hadn't been able to eat or drink anything from May 19th until May 23rd except friggin' ice chips and promptly passed out, dropping the cup and making everyone around me grateful that I wasn't holding the baby.)

I googled 'insomnia' and this came up.  WTF?

Even with my beloved Ambien, it takes me at least an hour to be able to fall asleep.  

Anyway, I've had 2 hours of sleep since Sunday.  Today is Wednesday.  I'm exhausted.

In fact, exhausted doesn't even really cover it.  I'm so tired I can't even chew food because I don't have the energy.  (I've eaten scrambled eggs two days in a row because everything else takes too much effort to eat.)  I can't think, I can't focus... I just keep drinking ice water and caffeinated beverages in an effort to remain semi-alert.

So here's what happened:

I gave Maisy (my stinky pug) a bath this morning, because even though she only steps foot outside to pee and poop, she manages to work up a stench that is fairly impressive.  While I was bathing her in the bathtub, in my sleep-deprived mental state I accidentally turned the hand held shower head the wrong way and wound up totally hosing myself and the bathroom down while Maisy remained completely dry.  

I finished bathing the dog, even though I was sopping wet and had water streaming down my face and body.

I dried her off, and cleaned the bathroom (which was also soaked... did I mention that?  I don't remember and I'm too tired to go back and re-read what I've already written).  

Then I took a shower.

I dried my hair and decided I hated it.  It's growing out, it's not cute,  I can't do anything with it, and when I put a hat on to cover it all up, bits and pieces of it stick out randomly and make me look like Oliver Twist.  And not in a good way.

I know this isn't Oliver Twist but it's a fairly good representation of what I look like in a hat.  Sad but totally true.

So I did what any rational person would do:

I grabbed my husband's clippers, put the #8 clip guard on, and shaved the sides and back of my head.

Because a faux hawk will fix everything.

Yes?