Last Hair Rites And My Leap Into The Deep

The Beginning of the End
The Beginning of the End

CeeLee-The Lady of (uncomfortable) situations…

Okay, yes! I lost the wager I had with my son. I overestimated my ability to type 50,000 words in 30 days. It happens to the best of us, right? Right. So my son has reminded me hourly that I need to honor said wager. I’ll shortly be finding out just how good my water treading prowess really is,with water in the neighborhood of 54 degrees. I hope I’d didn’t overestimate that like I did with my confidence in completing NaNoWriMo.

Fear (possible) death by water

I was informed by my all too eager son and SO today that my hair must be perfect before I jump into a cold pond that I actually bet the warmth of my ass on. Yeah that makes sense. I’m literally tapping this post out while sitting in a hair salon. I’m under strict orders not to come home until my hair has made a change for the better. I’m not particularly pleased about this but have to concede that-

A. Its been over 2 years since my hair last had intimate relations with a stylist’s shears and is way past ready to have a conjugal visit and-

B. That my son and SO might have a point that I shouldn’t scare my audience, both the live ones happily awaiting my arrival even now, nor the ones that will review the results from my mandatory photo op. And it’s been 2 years since the last romp with styling products.  I’m told that this is just wrong on so many levels. Have mercy on me oh God of Hair and Style, I knew not of what I did.

I’ll soon see crowds of people, walking round in a ring

Here I sit. My poor neglected hair is standing on end, so consumed with lust over the stylist comb, all but panting when the beautician twirls it around in decorative knots all over my head and clips them into place. I look like a deranged and soon to be 30+ year old Pippi Longstocking. As a side note, I’m quite fond of roses for my funeral.

Pre-Plunge
Pre-Plunge
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