21 January 2011

Forget their boobs...

i want their HAIR!


oh their gorgeous locks that flip and tousle just so...

falling like luxurious waterfalls down their backs...


le sigh.

this past weekend my sorority sisters reunited in tipsy napa valley to go wedding dress shopping for not me. courtney got a victoria's secret catalogue in the mail and evidently we are both in need of a new bra. as we were debating between biofit and very sexy (which do you like??) i came to a tragic conclusion:
i can do as many crunches and weird things on gym benches as my little heart pleases, but a bikini goes best with a whole lotta hair. on your head, of course. and that, is something that will forever elude me.

one time, when i was a much younger woman,
my hair looked like this:
(documentation of a much, much shorter cut does, indeed, exist.
willingness to ever allow those photos to see the light of day does not.)

i know, right?

then, after many years and much tedium,
i got it to look like this:

and then...
it died. it stopped. it just couldn't do it anymore. it took up permanent residence just below my shoulders.
i sweet talked it, i babied it (with baby powder of course), i wore mayonnaise to bed and took vitamins.
but it just wouldn't budge. for well over a year the stubborn ends continued to split and break as i told my stylist (hi calle!), "i'm growing it out."

so what's a girl to do?
get extensions?
i'd rather get cancer.