better than jenny craig

last night at work i marveled at how light my head felt post-haircut. i joked that i probably lost a pound of hair. all joking forgotten after the HORRIFIC, TERRIBLE, AWFUL, DISGUSTING, WHY HATH THOU FORSAKEN ME?-style discovery last night. don't ask, i can't even talk about it right now because i'm busy alternately fighting the urge to vomit, crying and cursing at poor emre.
so this morning i stepped on the scale, cringing a little, knowing that i've been wrecklessly overeating lately. but really, fried yucca with ocopas y huancita sauce? this job kills me! but instead of the extra pound or two i expected the scale to laugh at me about, it reported one pound UNDER anything i've weighed in the past decade--even though i feel bloated and icky. strange. an hour later while walking down the street, feeling the light bounce of my new hair, the eureka moment came. aha! i DID lose a pound of hair. awesome.

double dog dare

amy double dog dared me to post a picture of me in my underware and my new haircut. so here it is. i'm just like kirstie alley (sp?) on oprah in my bikini. except no nylon body suit. what's up with that? here is the photo i would have posted. don't mind the disaster that is my apartment.
serious props to ben and giovanni. ben for the 'shear' genius. giovanni for bringing him, and being adorable. and mieke, of course, for introducing me to both. and to belgium for producing them all. and some serious chocolate.

re: the red mop

okay, cut the crap. it’s time to talk about me. and my hair. first off, i just wanted to share the phenomenal thing that happened a month or so ago: curls. it’s true that i just woke up one day with them. well, okay, it wasn’t ultra surprising that my hair got kinky, as i had been sporting a bun mohawk for 2 days. but as i rode the freight elevator about 40 or so stories high above colombus circle in the “greenest building in new york city”--which, appropriately, looks like a giant stalk of asparagus--ready to take on yet another dinner party (who know there could be so many dinner parties in one little city?!), i pulled out the little buns, expecting some mild waves that fell out within five minutes. instead i felt a strange springing sensation as coils bounced from tip to scalp--just like a shampoo commercial--and my co-worker gasped, “SHIRLEY TEMPLE! IN THE ELEVATOR WITH ME!” (hey, by the way, i just learned that the punctuation goes outside the quotation. why don’t i remember that from school?). and indeed, i bounced my way through the event feeling charming and cute, like people with curly hair must feel all the time (right?), basking in the positive attention i received. probably as annoying as nermal. you know, the nauseatingly cute little grey kitten that used to drive garfield crazy? work with me here.
the strange thing about the curls is that they never fell. they bounced all night long. not since picture day in 1983 had my hair seen such action. and that was the product of my great-grand-mother-of-the-cherokee-blood-fame keeping me up what felt like all night painfully tying rags in my hair. i think this rag-technique should be credited to living in oklahoma before being credited to the cherokee thing. but man, i wish i had her cheekbones!

can i just say at this point, since we're looking at this ridiculous photo, that i considered this lovely frock my "prince" dress, because it was vertically striped with purple and black. ah, memories.

and whose idea was it not to brush these curls out anyway? i know, it's an homage to the tornados (tore-nay-duhs) in oklahoma.

so, yeah, the curls, they were quite the accidental splash, and i regretted that i wasn't headed out for a night on the town, but rather going to mieke's for a henna session (note the inches of blondish roots infiltrating the red mop). not that i don't love the bonding time this consists of sitting on a wooden chair in mieke's bathtub in my underware while she spreads a cake of alfalfa-manure smelling mud on my hair then wraps it in saran wrap for a stare-inducing walk home. no, i really look forward to that. it's just, i wasn't ready to part with the rock star curls. maybe rock star isn't an apt description. in fact, when i brushed them out for the henna session, i went from being shirley temple to some kind of 70's glamour model (see above photo, post-brush out).

so my point is, i've been really enjoying my hair recently. it's super long--even longer without the curls. and it does all kinds of fun stuff, like french braid crowns and really big ratted craziness. let's be even more narcissistic and show off that amazing length.

however, i started getting the itch to cut my hair
nearly two years ago, which i resisted, knowing that abbie's wedding was coming up and i'd want my hair up. and after that, i didn't cut it off because let's face it, i'm broke, and maintaining a cut with an ounce of style or should i say, not allowing it to grow out hideously requires throwing down some money, especially in new york city. and that's money i'm not ready to part with for hair. as you've heard, my hair stylist is mieke, and she is free. she does the cut and color. all for some good conversation and maybe a bottle of trader joe's three-buck-chuck.
then on saturday mieke says, kitty, do you want to get your hair cut for free? my friends are visiting from belgium. ooh. her friend the hairdresser who always gives her adorable haircuts. then again, she has cooperative, adorable hair to begin with. i'll probably get her in trouble now that i have such vast readership internationally, especially in belgium, admitting that she's offered me a free haircut sans permission. but i'm so accostomed to getting people (usually me) in trouble with my big mouth, why stop now? like that time in 9th grade when i called meghan bates a slut because i was seething with jealousy that she was dating the guy i had a crush on. ah, high school. too bad she was standing just behind me at marching band practice (i know, i know....at band camp) and not willing to pretend she didn't hear me. or like two weeks ago in the tomato entry when i said i could blame my mom for everything. that went over well. hey, who gave my mom my blog address anyway? oops, i think it was me. love you mom!
anyway, mieke said free haircut, and although i know that i will be enslaved by lopping my hair off, forced to visit other hairdressers later who are not free, i just cannot resist the urge. it's risky, i know. although past jaunts into the short hair realm have been great (the pixie cut, the bob) there was also that 1999 cut that i don't think i even have photo proof of, so bad it was, aging me at least ten years and forcing me to wear a headband for months. but whatever. ultimately, it's just hair. it grows back. what do you think?