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I went to see my hair stylist buddy, Paris, yesterday.  Yes, that’s her real name.  I am currently growing out Victoria Beckham’s old hairdo.  What I want now for a hairdo, I am not exactly sure of.  My tresses will grow about to shoulderlength, then I will have some layers added.  Then, I will mostly start wearing it up because my hormones are kickin and I will be drenched with this hot hair all layin up on my head.

Here’s where the problem begins.  I start browsing hairstyle magazines.  And I will find 2 or 3 hairstyles that I can’t live without.  Blonde highlights, spikes, elaborate styles, start calling out to me, “Yes thats the one!  I must radically change my hair!!!”  My husband becomes very quiet because he has witnessed this debacle too many times.  I can see him silently cringe.  He thinks “what crisis is she going through now?”

In years past, I would walk in shoulder-length brunette, walk out razor-cut choppy blonde high-lights, sometimes, assymmetrical.  My kids would just laugh!  

All these changes weren’s signs of mental illness.  I would see the pretty young girl in the magazine, and what I actually wanted was something she had, that God hadn’t given me.  For instance, dark olive-y skin, big dark eyes,  a pert little turned up nose. Pillowy lips.  None of this could be bestowed on me by any hairdresser.  I realized I simply admired what someone else had physically.  But, my features, auburn brown hair, pale skin, slightly roman nose, hazel (the color of a mucky puddle) eyes, thin upper lip, but wide bright smile.  Not too bad..  I guess I will just trim my hair this time.



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Member Comments

    • 0 votes vote up vote up

      Jennadahhling wrote Sep 20, 2008
    • Thank you for sharing with me Tracy.

      My emotions have been on a rollercoaster since mom was diagnosed in June..  She absolutely has loved life more than anyone I know, and has always lived “in the moment“.  The illness has changed her, and even though she is hanging on by a thread, I feel as if I have lost her because talking is difficult for her.  I lost my Dad almost exactly 3 years ago, and it is just so strange.  I talk about him like he is still here.  I have always called her Mum or Mummy (and I’m not even English!)Please, if you have anymore insights about our Mums, share them.  I need to hear about others dealing with this.

      Thanks~jenna



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    • 0 votes vote up vote up

      Leeann wrote Sep 23, 2008
    • My mom was always on the go. When I would vist her Az in Dec, we would go shopping until we dropped . We would rent moves and watch them until we fall asleep wrapped in my childhood banket. When I went home to move her house last week, I found my blanket folded up on the bed. I just sat and held it. It is now in a box on a moving truck. I can’t wait to see it . I know it sounds funny. Maybe mom will use it in my house. please know that the sun will come out again. I think it just takes time.



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