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Yeah…it’s been a while. Again. In my world, “real life” tends to be a huge time suck. Between FT work, FT school, homeschooling the kiddos, family issues, health issues, and general all around “other stuff to do” blogging tends to take a back seat (or in my case, gets shoved in a box in the trunk and buried under the jumper cables and spare tire).
Changing seasons are traditionally difficult for me to deal with. Lately I’ve been snappish, crabby, and heading into my seasonal depression. Something had to change. I left work today in a bit of a funk. This is not unusual-I work in a very emotionally and spiritually draining field and leave work in a funk many days. I was just unwilling to inflict myself on the family in all my cranky glory.
So I did what any girl would do–went out for some pampering. Luckily, my budget had some extra space this month so I could have someone else pamper me for a minute without too much worry. So, I had my “once a quarter when I remember and think to get to the shop” wax. Unfortunately, facial hair is a part of my life, seems to run in the family. There are very few things that make you feel less feminine than a unibrow and ‘stashe. They had to go. Ten minutes and several red, shiny patches later and I’m heading to destination number two.
Now would be a good time to tell you that the word “salon” is not in my vocabulary. Having been broke for so long, I can barely justify a $15 wax job once a quarter. Still, I was in a funk and needed something so off I went to the discount hair cut place. (I’ve been told just venturing through the door makes me uncommonly brave–since my standard response to bad hair is “I can just shave it off”, I’m not sure how true that is). They were having a massive sale on their already cheap services so for very little cash I got a shampoo, light conditioning treatment, and hair cut. Once we were all satisfied with the results, I was off on the next (and final) leg of my journey–home for coloring.
I have never in my life had my hair professionally colored. Generally, Da Man, my little sister, or whatever random person I can grab off the street would dye my hair for me. It was a long process because for the past many years my hair has been down nearly to my waist. It just so happened that there was a box of color and highlight color in my bathroom just begging to be used. Lucky for me Da Man was willing to be impressed into service spot check the color application for me. Even better, he caved to peer pressure helped me place the highlights.
My head feels lighter, my eyes are visible, and I’ve got a shiny new shade going on. Magically my funk disappeared. Apparently, I need to get back to my little bits of luxury on a regular basis. Everyone is grateful for the change in mood, including myself.