I think I am a short-hair person. In personality, I mean. I don't know what that means really. But I am. When I walked in to the salon I said "We're chopping it!" And my stylist looked like she was going to cry and run away. She asked me about 40 times if I was ready before cutting off my ponytail. Then she asked if I wanted to hold my ponytail. That's weird, right? I said no. But I did take a picture of it and send it to Amy. Because that's what we do.
Not to get all existential with you about a haircut, but I had this moment afterwards where I was like - oh wow, I kind of feel like the exact same person I was before this. That was a big deal for me, I'm not being sarcastic. For years I've had the tendency - and I have a hunch this is common - to equate my appearance with my identity. I am Long-Haired. I am a Blonde. I am Fat/Skinny/Paula Deen/whatever. It follows then that if these things are Me, if any of them change, I do too, and that's scary, because what if I change into a worse version?
But it turns out changing these physical things doesn't really change too much inwardly. After my haircut on Saturday I realized I still love Aaron and hate cleaning the bathroom and everything. Same old me!
2. What is, "the show that abated the Great Insomnia of Kansas City 2013."
My parents have a thing with this show. By "have a thing" I mean they watch it all the time. Last week I traveled to Kansas City for a few days for work and it turns out I cannot sleep in hotels without Aaron anymore. Despite days of no sleep and Advil PM. I have an iron constitution, apparently - who knew? (Maybe it's the haircut) Anyway, luckily the Food Network went a little berserk with the Chopped marathons so I was entertained in the night hours. But seriously - purple jelly beans as a crepe filling? No.
Coincidentally, the show has been inspiring some kitchen bravery for me. (Also some kitchen hurrying. I like to run around while I cook now, and every now and then I'll give a nice, loud "HOW MUCH TIME LEFT, CHEF" just to keep things interesting.) So last weekend I made butternut squash and spinach-stuffed pasta shells with a sage-lemon-butter sauce. I won the competition.
3. What is, "the type of liver which my physical being most closely resembles."
On Tuesday I had to have a colonoscopy. The real hero in this story is my husband, who for all intents and purposes stayed up with me all night the night before as I agonized over the impossibility that I drank AN ENTIRE BOTTLE OF MIRALAX within 3 hours and it DID NOT WORK. It was the absolute worst time to become a miracle of science. So I woke up at 1:30 am and like any sane, unimaginably 'blocked' person would, went to the gym. Then I came home and it started to kind of work. And continued to kind of work for the rest of the night, while my frustration grew into a full-blown 8-hour tantrum. I do not deal with fear/frustration well. (Can I blame the haricut again?)
Anyway, by another miracle of science my doctor was able to do the colonoscopy on Tuesday. I'm still waiting on the results, and I still feel like, pardon the pun, absolute crap. Turns out being tubularly searched like a dead frog in science class does not leave you feeling too great.
The best part was the medicine they gave me to put me under. It wasn't an anasthetic in the sense that it put me to sleep - it was a drug that puts you in "twilight sleep", or essentially erases your memory, according to Dr. Randloph aka my "contact." I came home and watched Biggest Loser and then later had no recollection of who got eliminated, is what I'm saying. It was pretty trippy. So the million dollars that this whole ordeal is costing me was worth it.
Now tonight I am flying to the OC (don't call it that) for a beachy, fancy hotel weekend with my husband and his work and I am totally going to be pretending we're super rich all weekend (I've already started paying more taxes just to make it real.) Hopefully that will make it all better.
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