You know you need a change when...

So last month I was out and about foraging for birthday bliss for a certain ungrateful almost 5 year old boy of mine. I'd been to 8 different places at this point in my search for the perfect gift and the one essential part of his fire engine cake (that apparently doesn't exist on this side of the country), so suffice it to say I was pretty tired and irritated.

Wow. Run-on sentence.

Anyhow, I got out of my car at stop #9, slammed the door and attempted to walk away from my car. I didn't get very far. For the umpteen millionth time I had slammed my hair into the car door. My head jerked back so hard I saw stars. The woman parked next to me started laughing as I mentally chalked one more up to the big CT.

I pulled the door open as fast as I could to try to save a little dignity, but as I walked away, I found myself jerked back a second time. I thought the lady next to me was going to fall over she was laughing so hard. It took a few minutes to determine the problem, but it was interesting to say the least. I had not only slammed my 2 feet of Rapunzel-esqe locks into the door, but I had also managed to catch it into my seat belt which when released pulled back up into the car taking my hair with it. I was not going anywhere, and for the whole 7-8 ensuing minutes it took to extricate myself from the situation the lady who'd parked next to me literally howled with laughter.

She did eventually apologize for finding such enjoyment in my pain (hey, I aim to please), though she never offered to help. She said it was simply the single most hysterical thing she'd ever seen. I wished her ultimate pain and death anyway (not really, y'all, sheesh) as I finally ended up just ripping my hair out of the seat belt hidey-away place.

As my head came free, leaving behind ample evidence of my humiliation in the process, I vowed never again. Today I made true to my vow.

Take that, ponytail! There's about a foot and a half of hair in this pic.

And here I am all fabulous afterward.


After I left the salon, I couldn't help but worry a little about whoever gets the wig made from my hair. What if they slam it into their door? At least most of my hair stayed attached to my head.