Last year’s hair:
This year’s hair:
I really think this year’s hair brings out the Irish in me. And when my professional hairstylist/all around cool dude, David, revealed the new look to me yesterday I thought it kinda reminded me of Jessica from True Blood.
Okay, maybe I’m doing a little wishful thinking here, people. Give me a break, I’m turning thirty-two soon and I’m trying to make this transition smooth. Someone send me a lacy top and some canned-vamp and I’ll practice my va-va-voom look in the mirror.
Besides the awesome new hair yesterday, I also had my water break. Okay. Don’t freak out. I know it’s too soon. I had a um…scare while in the bathroom of the salon. One that involved a stack of neatly folded paper towels and about two whole minutes of me turning in circles going, “oh god, oh god, oh god”.
It started when I had to pee. Right after all the color was carefully gooped onto my head and twisted into neat pieces, mother nature came a calling and I excused myself to the very clean, very stylish bathroom. I hiked up my giant bronze-colored cape and pushed down my capris and sat. Peeing. Like for an hour because I’m twenty-five weeks pregnant now DONCHAKNOW! And no, I didn’t put down a seat cover NOR did I tear of pieces of toilet paper to create a butt forcefield. This place was clean and I just don’t hover after week fifteen.
So I peed out a golden river and then turned to flush and I noticed that I’m still peeing. Like… peeing. Not even dribbling or dripping. It’s just pouring onto the floor.
Yah. What the eff??
A puddle started to accumulate and I began turning circles like a dog sniffing his butt because I don’t FEEL like I’m still peeing, but what else could it be…..
OH MY GOD, I’m going to have my baby in the salon toilet!!!
Yes, for nearly thirty-seconds I was convinced that the fate of my baby was in the hands of a bunch of hair-stylists. And the though occurred to me that they would be cutting the umbilical cord with those fancy scissors with the little apostrophe on the handle and maybe there would be hair stuck to the baby and at least the towels at this place are all brown.
But I didn’t have to have the baby there. Because it was the back of my cape and a long dangly attached belt that had been dunked into the toilet water/river of pee that was causing the trail of wetness all over the floor and the back of my legs and NOT my bag of waters.
And then later, ew. Um. One major crisis averted and a new (possibly more embarassing) one emerges. I took off the peepee cape and tossed it in the hamper. I was in my bra and pants (which were a tad damp in the butt area and still around my still sexy ankles) and I flip-flop mopped the floor with a short stack of paper towels. Then I put on a new cape, washed up, and looked at myself in the mirror. Wow, that’s RED. And all over my face now thanks to the last few minutes of looking down and flailing a bit in a sheer panic. More paper towels to tidy up the face and I emerged from the bathroom as cool as a cucumber.