Family

Courtesy of Aunt Gina (who insists on calling herself Granny G. eventhough she's only 35. For crying out loud, woman!)

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Photo statement

So I posted a new photo this week on my profile, something the ball of fire actually took of me when he was messing with my camera. He likes to take photos but his aim is usually about breast level. I have deleted many shots of my own cleavage. When he takes pictures of my face, it's inevitably up my nose or right at my double chin.

In this last series, titled "Mommy's hair," I was really rather pleased. I thought it would be fun to post one on the blog. It was up for a few days until my friend Nona pointed out that I was technically flipping the bird.

Nice.

That's right, Internet! Up yours!

Heaping handfuls

Thick curly strands twine through my fingers, dangling down my wrists. I stare at it, still unsure if all that hair actually fell from my head. The knot of hair in my hairbrush and the single pieces lying in the sink confirm my suspicion -- my hair is falling out, in great heaping clumps and I don't know why.

A few days ago, I visited my hairstylist, the beautiful and talented Marty, and casually mentioned that my hair was falling out at an alarming rate and had reached a level of dryness that was uncomprable to anything I'd experienced before. I'd taken to brushing it out every night -- the mythical 100 strokes -- in the hopes to encourage my natural oil production and potentially save a strand or two.

Thankfully, Marty is damn good at what she does. Apparently surgery will often cause the body to drop hair and thin your nails. Anesthesia will cause dryness and brittle ends. I had surgery twice in a month. It's amazing I'm not bald! After a quick trim and a deep condition, she recomended I pick up a few nutritional supplements, such as B-12 and Biotin, to help put my internal combustion engine on track. So it was off to the health-food store we go...

Why is it that every health food store I've ever entered smells like patchouli? There are very few scents in the world that cause me to physically draw up like that nasty shit. I girded my loins, and breathing through my mouth, I skirted the natural body soaps and headed for the supplements.

I am an organic kinda girl. We don't eat much packaged food, a few whole grain cereals at best, we buy organic meat and veggies. I cook a lot of our food from scratch and use natural ingredients. But there is something weird about health food stores. I believe they presume that because I use hair spray and wear non-patchouli perfume then I must be a stranger in a strange land.

The clerk made a beeline for me the minute I stepped in the door, I assume for fear that I would taint the organic dog food with my animal-tested eye liner. I told her what I was looking for, she waved me in the right direction and I quickly found what I needed.

At the checkout, the clerk asked why I picked that particular product. I gave her a brief rundown of my hair loss and why. She looked at me for a minute and then suggested I try an all-natural (most likely patchouli-based) shampoo.

I said, thanks, but no. I'm happy with my hair products. She frowned but didn't say anything.

As she was ringing me up, I looked around to make sure the ball of fire was still in my line of sight. He was quietly sitting at a kids table, coloring and holding his nose.

"Son, I'm almost done, lets go. Why are you holding your nose?"

"Mom, it stinks so bad in here. I can't stand to smell any more!"

I looked up at the clerk, who was staring at me gape-mouthed like I should be appalled.

"Yes, it sure does! Let's leave quick and hope we don't smell bad too!"

I shot one last glance at the clerk, who now had a sullen-patchouli lovin' face, standing at the counter with her arms crossed. I flashed her some dimples and gratefully stepped into the fresh air.

Now I just pray that this helps my hair because if I ever have to go back, they might sacrafice me to the Wiccan god of organic composte before I can say "patchouli smells like shit!"

Black and blue

I chose not to make any New Year's Resolutions this year, strictly for the joy of not having to keep them.

But I did quietly promise myself that I would branch out a little with my hair color. I came home from the hairdresser yesterday with raven locks. Quite the contrast from my sun-kissed red and blonde.

The dark hair and pale skin do wonders for my blue eyes.

The hubby looked at me for a few minutes, and tentatively said, "You kinda look scary." How ironic, that's exactly the look I was going for!

There was a little girl, who had a little curl

In case I hadn't mentioned it before, I have naturally curly hair. Very curly hair. All of which is a giant source of anger and frustration for me. I really don't like it, but then find me one woman who is in love with her hair and then we'll talk. Oddly enough, I receive compliments about my hair almost every day, which never fails to mystify me.

Obviously I've had this hair all my life -- although it did actually become MORE curly after the ball of fire, but that's another story. So imagine my suprise when I read the latest in a string of fascinating and ground-breaking scientific studies that revealed how straight hair is more tangled than curly hair.

I will say here: I call bullshit.

Anyone who has ever brushed curly hair (their own, or otherwise) can attest to the fact that nothing snaggles worse.

But this research has some very promising findings ... for Velcro.

Masson noted that Velcro essentially involves hairy fibers getting tangled up with each other, and that his findings could lead to advances "in Velcro-like technology," he told LiveScience. For instance, researchers could try increasing the tension of Velcro fibers, essentially making them straighter.

If, and I use that word lightly, IF this study is true, it does have one silver lining. Pubic hair will never be tangly again.

Finally, we can rest easy.