It's been a long, long time since I've commented. The whole year has nearly whooshed by and between tracking the absurdity that is the news and trying to stumble half sane through the days, things have slipped...
Well no. Not exactly. The silence started with a MAJOR hair mistake. MAJOR. Let's just say this, my hair finally (at long last) took a last gasp of air and died! DIED! I had a very emotional wake. I screamed. I cried. I dressed up a donkey and sat in a pile of tissues (mascara running) in sack cloth and ashes.
So what have I been doing these past months? Gathering myself and taking to major hair repair watch. It's been nothing short of terrible. I've had a cut and taken to ingesting fist fulls of hair growth vitamins (as if eating another hair gummy before bed will actually result in magical chia pet type growth in the morning.
It doesn't. *sigh*
In search of an immediate fix that will keep me from leaping from the kitchen cabinets, because that was on my list of things to do next, I have resorted to months of protective styling. First, I look like a terrifying apparition of my 23 year old self in hombre braids. I was not pleased but was presentable and no one was the wiser.
On the upside, its a good time in life to experiment with my hair. You know before I morph into my ideal self.... Lord when is that stoke of luck going to happen? More heavy sighing. Anyway, I'm going to keep experimenting with and featuring protective styling (for all textures and lengths and ethnicities). There will be weave, maybe a wig, definitely a braid or two and color throughout. One cannot cease living in the name of hair! ...Although to be fair the recitation above would lead you to believe (correctly) that committing suicide off kitchen cabinets implies that I wasn't too keen on the idea joyful living with damaged hair.
So just to clarify, that scream you heard in February/March, that defining howl, heard round the world - Yup... that was me. But... I'm on the rebound. Here we go!