A not so unusual Sunday morning in the life of Nikki

I had a hair crisis this morning.  To have a hair crisis you have to actually CARE about what your hair looks like.  And believe it or not, I do.  occasionally. 

I showered last night.  I hate to shower Sunday mornings because of how long it takes my hair to dry if I don't blow-dry it (which I only do like twice a year) and then to style.  And then I feel absolutely pale and washed-out if I do my hair all fancy-schmancy (read: not a wild frizz-case) and yet not do my make-up.  This whole process is time-consuming and I don't like my time all consumed. 

So what happened this morning?  I decided I would pretend my hair would look acceptable if I pulled it back French twist style in a clip and just smooth my bangs with a curling iron.  They would not cooperate. 

First of all, I only recently cut my bangs again.  Like 10 days ago or something.  I'm getting used to them again.

I have a widow's peak.  You know, the thingy that makes my hairline look like Dracula.  It makes my bangs bounce up.  I'm used to this and for the most part I either go without bangs and show the world my sizeable forehead, or I wear bangs and look fourteenish.  Did I ever tell you about the Cheetos confiscating principal at the Jr. High I was SUBBING at?  No?  Anyhow, my bangs are not beautiful and trained like those of lovely celebrities. 

But I have bangs for now and they must be dealt with accordingly.

Today after smoothing them with a curling iron they got static-crazy and stuck straight out.  Like they were perpendicular to my face!  I pushed them down.  They popped up!  I smoothed them down s-l-o-w-l-y with the curling iron.  They stuck straight out.  Danny laughed at me. 

So I got the mousse and a slicked them down.  It wasn't enough.  I slicked them again.  and again.

Then I finally decided that if they did not cooperate and pretend to be back with the rest of my hair, I would have to sink so low as to use Gabbers barrettes.  Luckily they calmed down. 

After that craziness, I didn't have time for make-up.  Now it was time to get the sleeping Baby Girl to poop on my skirt and start another crisis of its own.