Tomorrow- Heels, A Skirt, and Some Eyeshadow
To me, one of the best parts about being a stay-at-home-mom is the way in which I can pretty much look however I want without worrying about frightening someone. Staying in my pj's until ten or eleven is a norm for me. I mean, does a three year old really care that my pants are orange and my top is purple? Or that I just plucked my eyebrows?
The usual answer is no.
Since Mr. Personality is still sick, I knew I was going nowhere today, and thus gave a rat's ass about what I looked like. After taking my shower, gratefully choosing to not shave my legs, I couldn't decide on the level of hair attention. Should I put no product in at all? The cheaper product, since a public appearance was highly doubtful and why waste the good stuff?
I opted for the cheaper product, and for some unknown reason, well, mostly laziness, just combed it through with my fingers and not a brush. I wasn't exactly in a big rush, so I figured I would just let it air dry the normal way and then brush it later.
A couple of hours went by, and I turned to look at Mr. P, chilling on the couch watching Caillou, since I am having to force inactivity lest he cough up a lung. I said something to him, I don't remember what exactly.
He cocked his head and looked at me.
Then he stated, "Mama, you need to brush your hair."
Fine. Point taken my boy, point taken.
The usual answer is no.
Since Mr. Personality is still sick, I knew I was going nowhere today, and thus gave a rat's ass about what I looked like. After taking my shower, gratefully choosing to not shave my legs, I couldn't decide on the level of hair attention. Should I put no product in at all? The cheaper product, since a public appearance was highly doubtful and why waste the good stuff?
I opted for the cheaper product, and for some unknown reason, well, mostly laziness, just combed it through with my fingers and not a brush. I wasn't exactly in a big rush, so I figured I would just let it air dry the normal way and then brush it later.
A couple of hours went by, and I turned to look at Mr. P, chilling on the couch watching Caillou, since I am having to force inactivity lest he cough up a lung. I said something to him, I don't remember what exactly.
He cocked his head and looked at me.
Then he stated, "Mama, you need to brush your hair."
Fine. Point taken my boy, point taken.
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