I have a lot of hair. Like, a lot!! It's long and thick and curly. Often, it is big and bushy and fuzzy and out of control.
When I do finally go to the salon to get it cut, it takes about 2 hours. The stylist always comments on how heavy, how an extra sink is needed to wash it, how cutting covers her entire salon floor with blondish clippings and takes 20 minutes to sweep up. Blah blah blah.
What can I say, I can't help genetics. I have terrible skin, not so great teeth, and I've gained 50 lbs since highschool. So, I embrace the hair as awesome! I fear, like Absalom, that my vanity over my locks may be the death of me one day.
Or perhaps the death of the hubster....
We were sitting on the couch, snuggled up, watching tv, as is our evening custom when the kidlets are in bed and we have a few precious moments to ourselves.
I was in my comfy pj's. My hair was twirled up into an unsightly bun/twist thingy.
I have to rewind a smidge. After Charlotte was born, I started to lose my hair. A lot of hair. Did I mention a lot?! It was coming out in clumps, bunches of hair clogging the drain, and making our vacuum cleaner get all tangled (honest to goodness!). After a few months it started to grow back with a vengeance of curly baby hair sticking out all around the perimeter of my face, like my very own mini white girl 'fro.
So, there we were. Couch. Chillin'. The hubster and I, and my hair.
He says, pointing, "Why is your hair doing that? Why doesn't it lay flat?" (attempting to pat it down) "You look like a chia pet!"
I whip my head around and give him the evil glare, brows pulled down, "I can't help it!"
Apparantly my big fuzzy head was getting in the way of the hubster's optimal television viewing. Well, don't I just feel terrible about that!
Cruel, I tell ya, totally cruel!
But it was honestly so funny that he called me a chia pet, all I could do was get up and go post his comment as my facebook status and give everyone a good chuckle.
"Ch-Ch-Ch-Chia"...it's been stuck in my head for 2 days now. It's time to pass it on.