Thankful: Day 23 [Umm.]

I had plans to write this post earlier on in the day.  I was going to say I was thankful that I was getting my hair highlighted today.  A sneak peak into my vanity - I had a small, secret fear that the baby would decide to come before I had a chance to get my hair highlighted and the roots were looking pretty bad.  Not that anyone cares.

Fast forward to now, and I would actually be much happier if I could have the baby with the hair I had before 4:30 PM today... roots and all.

Long story short - my normal girl (of like five years) got moved to another salon, so instead of going to her - which I should have done - I figured she left my formula in the computer and just went to the chick they were sending all of her old clients to.  (I know that sentence isn't right, and I don't care.)  Except my girl didn't leave my formula in the computer, and apparently "highlights" to me is equivalent to this new chick's "BANANA BLONDE." Ugh.

I'm not gonna lie, if I let myself, I could still tear up about it right now.  I've actually been crying an embarrassing amount tonight.  Okay, I still am.

Let me qualify all this by saying that I know my hair does not look THAT bad, and that probably no one will notice or care.  However, I do notice and care, and to be honest, I don't really mind if you like my hair or not - I want to like it.  So the problem is really with me and my attitude... I get that.  I take that back, if I am being honest, I do care if you like my hair, but if I don't like it, I won't believe that you like it, even if you say that you do... so it doesn't really end up mattering if you like it or not. Got that? Good.

So anyway, when you are really pregnant- weighing way more than you feel comfortable weighing and your five year old nephew is calling you fat because he doesn't know any better... and people are commenting about how you are breathing too heavy... and other people are commenting about how BIG your certain unmentionable body parts are (which you hate and already feel self-conscious about), you want to do SOMETHING to feel attractive. Or at least I do.  Call me immature or vain or whatever- I realize my issues - just being honest here. (Funny in light of yesterday's post, but whatever.)

So yeah, when I walk in the salon as a brunette with blonde highlights, tell the lady that I want "the exact same as last time," and leave looking like pregnant Barbie, I'm probably not going to handle it so well.

You might be wondering what this has to do with being thankful.  And well, I am trying to figure it out too.  So, off the top of my head, even though I am crying, even though my husband has no idea how in the world this situation could possibly justify so much drama, and even though I am angry that this happened and that I might possibly have to face the girl again because I'm not sure I can live with my new hair color.... I will find things to be thankful about even though I'm not quite passed the "pissed off" stage... (Forgive me for being so blunt.)

1. Thankful that no one cares about my hair more than me.
2.  Thankful that situations like this actually do unveil sins in my heart - and things that matter far, far too much for me.  It's not really fun, but at least when God shows me that dirt, I have hope that he will also free me from it.
3.  Thankful that in two or three weeks I won't be breathing too hard, or being called fat by five year olds.  Wish I could say that the unmentionable body parts would be getting smaller, too, but we all know that's not what happens...
4. Thankful that I have a blog - writing about this has been therapeutic.  I am definitely over-sharing.  Oh well.  I'll regret it when some random person at my ten year HS reunion next year comes up to me and tells me that they read my blog.  For now I'll just be thankful that writing this post has given me some temporary sanity.
5.  Thankful for Henry.  I managed to stop crying enough to read him some books, say prayers and put him to bed.  He is a great distraction from myself.

I think that's good enough.  I also would like to add that mirrors are the devil.  With that, I am going to go apologize to my husband for being a psycho.  Good night!