The first time was after seeing the horrifying chop and color job the hack stylist I went to this afternoon gave me. I went to her because I could not wait any longer for an appointment with my regular stylist, Taylor. (Taylor, I will never stray again, I swear. I have learned my lesson in the most painful way possible.) My hair is now a very odd shade of light brown, and the cut is NOT BECOMING, and I feel like the frumpiest frump that ever frumped. I find this wildly ironic, since just YESTERDAY I commented on a hair related post over at MMW, leaving advice about how to get a good haircut. The universe is punishing me for my hubris, obviously.
My old haircut:
My new haircut:
The second time was on the way home from Walgreens. I have an overactive imagination and always have, something I've alluded to in other posts. I tend to daydream a lot. I mean, I think I mostly have my mental health, but I know that I do an extraordinary amount of daydreaming. Sometimes when I’m feeling hormonal and I have errands to run alone, I’ll turn my IPOD to the “melancholy” playlist and let my imagination run wild, because it's cathartic to cry now and then, and I figure it's better to have an imaginary reason to cry than to come home and pick a fight with my husband over nothing. I’ll come home all teary eyed and will hug him and kiss him tenderly and tell him somberly how very much I love him, and he’ll just sigh, “You imagined I died again, didn’t you?” And I will lie, "No, no, I just love you so much. No particular reason. But, uh, hold me." (My husband spends a lot of time rolling his eyes.)
Today I started imagining what would happen if there was a fire in the house and my husband went back inside to get the dog but was tragically crushed by a beam, and the dog got out but my husband died. And then I imagined that I spoke at his funeral and told the world how much I loved him, and what a wonderful man he was, and how it was so unfair that he was taken from us at such a young age.
This had the three pronged effect of 1) making me sob all the way home as I gave the pretend eulogy, 2) making me love my husband even more passionately than before because he not only was an amazing, wonderful, fantastic man, but also he gave his life for a dog, and how selfless is that, and 3) giving me yet another reason to hate the dog. As if I needed another reason.
I did not want my husband to know about this particular episode of CRAZY, so I wiped away all of the tears before I went inside. (I can picture you all right now, nervously edging away from the crazy lady, clicking on other links to get away as quickly as possible.)
The third time I cried was when I tucked my son into bed and he made me kneel down next to him so that he could stroke my face and hug me and try to force me to lie down with him until he fell asleep. “You stay right here with me Mom. Carter love you real nice Momma.” It was so funny, and so cute, and I suddenly realized he is getting old way too fast and I can’t stop it from happening, and soon he will be a teenager and he will hate me, because all teenagers hate me instinctively. So I sat and cried on his bed after he fell asleep, then wandered around the house feeling melancholy and sniffling.
The fourth time I cried was after my husband left to go work out. I sat on the couch and worked on my laptop and watched the Biggest Loser. They did a challenge about tempting foods, which made me hungry, so I ate the rest of the bag of candy corns I had hidden in a drawer (in case of emergency). Then I cried again, because, seriously, what kind of loser eats candy while watching a weight loss show, while her husband is off working out? That would be ME.
Good heavens, I hope this is PMS and not pregnancy.
My new haircut:
The second time was on the way home from Walgreens. I have an overactive imagination and always have, something I've alluded to in other posts. I tend to daydream a lot. I mean, I think I mostly have my mental health, but I know that I do an extraordinary amount of daydreaming. Sometimes when I’m feeling hormonal and I have errands to run alone, I’ll turn my IPOD to the “melancholy” playlist and let my imagination run wild, because it's cathartic to cry now and then, and I figure it's better to have an imaginary reason to cry than to come home and pick a fight with my husband over nothing. I’ll come home all teary eyed and will hug him and kiss him tenderly and tell him somberly how very much I love him, and he’ll just sigh, “You imagined I died again, didn’t you?” And I will lie, "No, no, I just love you so much. No particular reason. But, uh, hold me." (My husband spends a lot of time rolling his eyes.)
Today I started imagining what would happen if there was a fire in the house and my husband went back inside to get the dog but was tragically crushed by a beam, and the dog got out but my husband died. And then I imagined that I spoke at his funeral and told the world how much I loved him, and what a wonderful man he was, and how it was so unfair that he was taken from us at such a young age.
This had the three pronged effect of 1) making me sob all the way home as I gave the pretend eulogy, 2) making me love my husband even more passionately than before because he not only was an amazing, wonderful, fantastic man, but also he gave his life for a dog, and how selfless is that, and 3) giving me yet another reason to hate the dog. As if I needed another reason.
Behold, the evil creature who killed my husband. Er, in my imagination:
I did not want my husband to know about this particular episode of CRAZY, so I wiped away all of the tears before I went inside. (I can picture you all right now, nervously edging away from the crazy lady, clicking on other links to get away as quickly as possible.)
The third time I cried was when I tucked my son into bed and he made me kneel down next to him so that he could stroke my face and hug me and try to force me to lie down with him until he fell asleep. “You stay right here with me Mom. Carter love you real nice Momma.” It was so funny, and so cute, and I suddenly realized he is getting old way too fast and I can’t stop it from happening, and soon he will be a teenager and he will hate me, because all teenagers hate me instinctively. So I sat and cried on his bed after he fell asleep, then wandered around the house feeling melancholy and sniffling.
The fourth time I cried was after my husband left to go work out. I sat on the couch and worked on my laptop and watched the Biggest Loser. They did a challenge about tempting foods, which made me hungry, so I ate the rest of the bag of candy corns I had hidden in a drawer (in case of emergency). Then I cried again, because, seriously, what kind of loser eats candy while watching a weight loss show, while her husband is off working out? That would be ME.
Good heavens, I hope this is PMS and not pregnancy.
See, in my daydreams when my husband dies, I am holding it together in a noble and tragic fashion. I am incredibly sad, but can move on in an appropriate amount of time. I lose a lot of weight through quiet and restrained grieving--counter to my usual stress eating ways. I use the occasion to make changes in my life, all for the better. People whisper how "strong" I am, how I just "seem sad but so together" and I am "coping with grace." It is very tragic, but very noble.
ReplyDelete(and all of that is the effect of too many Anne books at a certain point of development.)
ReplyDeleteOkay, first of all, you are NOT crazy......because, well, that would just mean that I am too and that's just not true (at least in my brain!). I have these kind of "daydreams" on a regular basis and when I say regular, I mean once or twice during the day (at LEAST) and EVERY single night when I am trying to fall asleep. The first ones started for me when I WAS pregnant with Nikki, so LOOK OUT! But, then again, they continued to be a daily ritual with me from then on out.....so you're definitely not nuts!
ReplyDeletePS LOVE the picture of the bag over your head! I do that ALL the time when I am too impatient to wait, and I ALWAYS regret it! However, it cannot be THAT bad, you look good in anything! All you natural-born Hutchings women do, and frankly it's just sickening! ;)
ReplyDeleteha ha ha ha! Azucar, that is hilarious. I think you may have something on the Anne thing. I was obsessed with those books.
ReplyDeleteJamie, do NOT say that to me. Pregnancy would be a very, very, very bad thing. And about looking good - HA! And Ha! Again. But thanks, you are sweet.
LOL! I do the EXACT SAME THING when it comes to imagining my husband dying, but, I have to admit, only when I'm pregnant. Sorry, you might have to go and get a test :)
ReplyDeleteI'm sorry. I am laughing and I can't stop. I hope that doesn't hurt your feelings. But the funeral and the candy corns --- waa haaa haaa! we could be sisters!
ReplyDeleteI am laughing!!
ReplyDeleteYou are a certain kind of crazy that I could be really good friends with in real life.
We could share candy corn and talk about bad hair!~
This is such an awesome post. I am totally a funeral planner too, and I cry about it. I always feel so silly, and my husband has learned that he needs to call me if he's going to be 5 minutes late, because an atomic bomb can obliterate the continent in 5 minutes. Well, maybe it would take more than one bomb.
ReplyDeleteI'm not at all like Azucar. I have to move in with my best friend, who will continue to teach, but will be happy to have someone to cook for her. She and I will split the bills with the insurance money and her salary, I won't have to get a job until my kids are all in school. I will stay in my pajamas all day, and cry all night. There will be no coping, no grace. I will eat candy corn and circus peanuts while watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
I used to think I was the only one who ever did that besides my mom, who could never go to bed if one of her children was out late.
As for your hair, maybe now's the time to pull a Sinead. So kidding. I always daydream about buzzing my head when my hair isn't behaving. I'm so sorry yours didn't turn out like you wanted.
I totally make up dramatic stories in my head, too. Except mine are about Paul McCartney coming to my house and deciding that I'm totally cool and that he'd like to hang out with me and my fam. Did I say "are about"? I meant "WERE about".
ReplyDeleteI do the whole "my husband died tragically" in my head, too. Why do we torture ourselves?
And yes, we have the same dog. How could you hate a cute dog like that? I guess I should read some past blogs...
Sue, thanks for stopping by and leaving a comment :)
ReplyDeleteYou are cracking me up on all the dramatic imaginings! I have a pretty active imagination, but you win sister! And the before and after pictures! Priceless.
The bag on your head is hilarious! You will have to post a real picture when you are feeling up to it. I have cried over several bad haircuts.
ReplyDeleteWatching the Biggest Loser and eating candy corns cracked me up. Just last week I was eating an ice cream cone and watching that show. Hmmmm!
When Damien dies in my imagination, I grieve immensely and cry uncontrollably when alone, but I hold it together for the sake of our daughter as much as possible. At his funeral, I speak beautifully and pull off the "final joke" he has told me he wants. (No, really, he wants me to mess with people at his funeral.) I responsibly pay off our townhouse and buy a modest home for now with the insurance money, and people are amazed at my strength and dignity. And then after an appropriate mourning period, I marry Jim Halpert or Elliot Stabler. Hey, my husband died- don't judge me.
ReplyDeleteSorry about your haircut. I bet it's better than you think, though.
Wow, that haircut is pretty bad. What with the squared-off edges and the way the stylist made your features so thin and black. You don't even have any eyelashes, you poor thing!
ReplyDeleteI still say you should write a book, or at the very least a column. I was thinking more of humor than tragedy; but, on the other hand, you make tragedy seem hilarious to those on the outside. So now you are a bag lady? Some people change hairstyles; you change your whole persona!
ReplyDeleteI do that all the time, yet instead of morning, I am redecorating. What does that say about me.
ReplyDeleteYou have no got me craving candy corn.
Great post. Found you though Azucar.
the words are mourning
ReplyDeleteand now
I should never blog after an ambian.
we must be on the same cycle.
ReplyDeleteI've been crying my eyes out all weekend. It's embarassing really.
I am SO glad to know that I am not alone, you guys! My husband read the comments and said, "Huh, I guess you really AREN'T that crazy after all." So thanks for the validation, tee hee. You are all so funny!
ReplyDeleteSue - I love it when people blog drunk or drugged, it entertains me...
Why is it so easy to make blog friends, and so difficult in real life, with the awkward pauses and the nerves? Someday I will host a blog friends party, where we will watch Buffy and The Office, eat candy corns, and construct a shrine to Jim Halpert. : )
Oh, and Carrie, the dog and I have ISSUES. I haven't blogged about them yet. He may look cute, but he is EVIL. EVIL.
ReplyDeleteI am also glad to know that I am not the only one who visualizes their husband's death & funeral. If Mark is even 20 mins late, I assume he has either been in a car accident and died on the scene, and I wait for NHP to come to my door, or that he was held up at gunpoint at the 7-11 and the robber only gets away with like $3 because Mark never has much cash, so it would have all been for nothing! Damn robber, ruining my life over $3. So, um, I am also nuts. Yay! That is why I like you so much, you make me feel normal.
ReplyDeleteDo you also plan your own funeral?
You are sooo funny! I am going to put you on my favorites. There are lots of things I do not like about Utah, but the mountains are NOT one of them. Thanks for the comment on my blog and the reason I squirt the bird is that is her bath. She just loves it and will fluff and wiggle and turn all around so I can get every single feather soaking wet. She is a goof.
ReplyDeleteAhem, I think it is PMS.
You know, I don't have time for this today. I am supposed to be cleaning, and then walking, and then picking up the Pea for some grandma fun, but instead, what I am doing? Reading your other posts, laughing, grinning goofily at the puter and making my hubby totally right that I don't do anything all day long. Humphf.
ReplyDeletesometimes i just feel like crying. i don't usually do the husband dies thing because he's not around sometimes as it is and i just cry for real.
ReplyDeletebut sometimes, i can just will myself to cry because my kids are so cute/big/annoying/
growing-up-too-fast/
not-growing-up-fast-enough and because "melancholy" is on my ipod. although it's not called melancholy. i will have to retitle it.
I want you to know that I completely support having your dog be your nemesis.
ReplyDeletePlease have a blog friends party, with or without Jim Halpert. I will come and bring people with me. I will even bring food.
I am laughing very loudly to myself at my computer. Tears rolling down my cheeks because, frankly, I am pretty certain that you are in my brain today.
ReplyDeleteI am commenting out of fear - I saw the warning. I will not be responsible for any loss of soul today. That's just bad Karma. :-)
I TOTALLY would have a party except, you know, I'm not going out in public until my hair grows out.
ReplyDeleteAhna, you made a very wise and sensible decision. Karma is not to be trifled with.
Holly - you can't have already forgotten about my funeral plans? You know, with your hubby giving the eulogy and all?
P.S. If anyone wants to see the cutest baby in the UNIVERSE, go to Jo's blog. Seriously. CUTEST. BABY. EVER.
All right, that's it! Clearly I have to convert to LDS. All I do anymore is read these awesome Mormon women's blogs and either nod my head so vigorously in agreement that it threatens to fall off or hoot unbecomingly with helpless laughter (in your case, today, both).
ReplyDeleteDo they give you all special awesome blogging vitamins when you join up? Because I want me some of those.
I have been craving candy corn since yesterday when I first read this.
ReplyDeleteI have done every single thing you have mentioned in this post. Are you my long lost twin? (with the same name)
p.s. found you through Azucar
omg...we could be related. are we related? there's a cosmic question to ponder. (try not to cry when you find out we aren't)
ReplyDeletei'm getting my haircut in a few hours and now, well, now you have scared me which i'm sure will jinx the cut. way to go...
oh, thanks for stopping in.
Holy cow girl! Look at how popular you are... 31 comments and now 32. Your entries are hilarious and so fun to read!
ReplyDeleteSo, I'm a tad late, but y'know, you're not crazy and me? would give anything to be able to cry at will. I used to cry, like, seventy-eleven times a day. Now? I try and try, and can't hardly do it. I mean the sobbing, deep cry, not the little teary reading a wonderful post kinda thing.
ReplyDeleteSo, I think I'll get my hair cut this weekend!
Please count me in on a blog party. I'll be able to spot you immediatly. (How many woman wear paper bags?)
ReplyDeleteWow - I am not alone. Isn't that cool? Wow.
ReplyDeleteAnd I think pregnancy is way better than PMS. You get a baby out of pregnancy, you only get a migraine from PMS.
I have done all of those things. Maybe crazy is the new sane. At least I now know that I am in good company.
ReplyDeleteLOL! You're not crazy, you're just a woman who unwittingly got a bad haircut while hormonal.
ReplyDeleteBotched haircuts + PMS = crying jag
The Biggest Loser always makes me munchy, too. When I watch it I'm so prepared to find the motivation I lack to lose weight, and then I do the very same thing! I usually end up eating a whole plate of nachos or something.
ReplyDeleteYour pre-cut, haircut is gorgeous. I'm printing you out and bringing it to my salon. I hope that doesn't creep you out.
ReplyDelete