This is Son #3 at the beginning of the summer, pre-bangs debacle. And yes, this is his real mad face. Boy does not mess around!
Super Cuts is exactly the place you want your child to have a meltdown. Not only is everyone there holding sharp, pointy objects but the walls are lined with bottles of expensive goo and the floor is coated in hair. Best case scenario (and by best I mean worst): your kid will knock said bottles off the shelf, continue his tantrum by rolling around on the floor, stand up looking like a multi-hued Yeti and then bolt out into the parking lot because everyone is laughing hysterically at the kid dumb enough to lick the floor of a budget hair salon.
Which is how I ended up with one leg flung across my 7-year-old’s lap, effectively pinning him to the seat, sweating while I did my best Cirque-du-Soleil back bend trying to explain to the stylist standing behind me (and as far away from my sobbing son as possible) what to do for his back-to-school haircut. I was just trying to avoid the Yeti situation! I’d hate to make a scene.
Best eye makeup EVER.
Wait, that sign has words?? My whole world view was rocked one day in 5th grade when my parents took me to get my eyes checked. It turned out that not only was I near-sighted but I was so near-sighted that the fact that signs contain actual words and not just blurry pictures was a shattering revelation. I remember marching out of the optometrist’s office and reading every sign I could find – just because I could.
Ever since then my consistently worsening vision has provided my family with a trove of embarrassing and hilarious stories. Like the time when I was 16 and jumped on the back of a boy in the swimming pool, thinking he was my brother that I’d been horsing around with. I quickly realized that despite wearing the same color swim trunks as my brother, he was not related to me in any way when he turned his head and said dryly, “Excuse me, can I help you?” I still had my legs locked around his waist when I spotted my brother several feet away laughing so hard I thought he was going to aspirate his own tongue.
See? We’re so obsessed with thick, luscious locks that even adorably bald babies are supposed to put a mop on their top to prove they’re a girl!
Big accomplishment today: Remember the age-old gym debate of camel toe versus muffin top? You know, when you can’t decide whether to hike your ill-fitting workout pants up and give yourself wicked camel toe or tug them down and roll out your muffin top? Well, I have settled the debate once and for all by wearing an outfit today that managed to do both, thanks to yanking my capris up into dromedary territory and then topping them with a tennis skirt that rode low into bakersville! I win again!
That wasn’t my only dubious accomplishment for the day, however.
“Oh hey, just a sec. Let me get that for you…” My husband leaned in to brush something off the side of my jaw for me. Suddenly feeling a sharp pain, I yelped as he exclaimed, “What the?! It’s attached!”
The “it” was a chin (lower back jaw actually) hair long enough that I could allllmost get it into my ponytail. Yep.
This is a gift that is ALWAYS appropriate to give…
Because skunk butthole.
Help! Someone call 911!! When you hear this on TV, people immediately come running to the rescue. In real life, as I learned on the 4th of July, sometimes it takes a minute to sink in. One minute we were happily taking an (inspired*) pre-fireworks walk with my friend J and her family and the next we were all staring dumbly at a man on the ground surrounded by his wife, young children, oh, and a rapidly spreading pool of blood. That was coming from his head. Specifically his ear. But not like a scrape on his ear. Like from in his ear. Did I mention there was blood everywhere?
That’s not good, I remember thinking. I’m no doctor but I’ve watched enough people fall off buildings on TV to know that blood gushing out of your nose and ears means massive internal bleeding. You know, the kind that means your character will definitely not be coming back next season. (Unless you’re on Pretty Little Liars. Nobody ever stays dead on that show. Not even the central character who is, by her very definition, a dead girl. I still watch. Feel free to commence judgement.) And like a TV show, it didn’t quite feel real.