Hair Band Hero

The thing with bangs is that they are just not a good idea for people like me. You know people that give themselves 30 minutes in the morning to get themselves and their toddler dressed, and in the car headed to work/daycare. People like me who regularly can’t find their hairbrush- or the last one that they had, being that the first two have already disappeared somewhere in the house where all the socks, hair elastics and the cordless phone are. People whose hair dryer quit performing after the Pretty Much Hubby used it to dry his track pants. People like me do not need bangs.

I’m spending the day looking like the Lead Singer of White Snake because the bangs that I decided on a whim that I had to have are un-brushed, un blow dried and untamed. I can’t get too near anyone because I didn’t brush my teeth today, because the toothpaste had its last effective squeeze yesterday. I wasn’t too concerned with my appearance, or smell for that matter. At least I showed up to work in real shoes and not the slippers that I showed up in last week. But wouldn’t you know it, that I get invited to see people after work, people whom unlike my coworkers I care what they think of me. People that will no doubt take one look at me in my whacked out hair glory and feel pity for the young disheveled mother that I have become. Had I shown up dressed to the nines today, having spent an extra bit of time to fake tan and well, geez, floss, I wouldn’t have been invited to do a thing. Pretty Much Hubby would call and say he was running late and by the time he would arrive home I would have been in my evening uniform of yoga pants, leopard print bathrobe and giant goblet of wine. My time and effort to look like a modern woman in her prime would have been wasted on my co workers who could care less if I show up dressed like Dr Quinn Medicine Woman. And so I go, out into the world where excuses of tiredness and laziness will not fly…looking like David Coverdale.