I wish one of you would go to the grocery store with me to physically prevent me from buying the avocados I never seem to eat before they rot.
I found Bill right around the corner from where I was living.
Bill was on 20th Street near my first-ever grown-up apartment, a tiny studio on Park Avenue South in Gramercy Park. I was in a bad way and Bill took care of me. It was scary for me to trust again, but with time, I grew to give Bill carte blanche.
At least with my hair.
My hair adventure started just prior to graduating from Cornell.
I didn’t intend to take last week off from blogging – swear. But I got back from Florida and that’s what happened.
So. What have I been doing? Lots. Tons and tons of important stuff. Continue reading
Mom visited me. More on that soon.
Naturally she had an opinion.
How do you think it played out?
Vote now and I’ll tell you the answer tomorrow. Click here to find out.
It looks much lighter in person, I think. And I’ll use undereye concealer in the future.
T and his boyfriend have the sweetest Schnauzer who answers to Yoko.
Happily, my allergies were kept at bay.
Have a great weekend, lovely friends.
I was shocked.
My skin and hair tend to be dry and yet I still wash my hair three to four times per week–more frequently if I go to the gym.
Unless I get a professional blowout, Day 1 tends to be my best hair day.
Day 2 requires decisions: do I go over it with a flat iron? Do I dampen my hair and wear it wavy, making the most of whatever happened during wild sleeping? Do re-blowdry the hair around my face?
Sometimes it’s just easier to wash and start over!
This week I made a conscious effort to see how long I could go without shampooing and conditioning my hair, washing it Tuesday morning. By Thursday, I was brushing my hair approximately hourly. I wanted so badly to hop in a shower and scrub my scalp and hair.
And truly, my hair looked like crap. By noon, it was in a sloppy ponytail.
How often do you wash your hair?
More chick stuff posts:
I don’t believe in reincarnation but if I did, I’d wish for…
Wash & go hair. Yes, I’m serious.
Oh, I’d hope for deeper things too. Like a long, healthy, happy life. To be in a position to help others. That sort of thing.
But I dream of not waking up to my Medusa look too.
Oh, I could just wash my hair and go. Let my curls air dry. Feel like Orphan Annie all day. No thanks. I have enough of that in the middle of August when New York is too hot and humid for everything.
Most days, I blow dry my curly hair to the point of being wavy or straight. For me, blown straight isn’t the same thing as having straight hair–it doesn’t move the same way.
For example, if I suddenly decided I’d rather part my hair down the middle instead of on one side, I couldn’t do that without water, a blow dryer and maybe a flatiron.
I know: some people have real problems. But tell me: what do you wish for?
When I lived in DC, I forgot about Ricky’s.
My bad. Ricky’s is awesome.
Picture a supermarket but filled only with beauty items. I inevitably go there for one thing and leave with, like, seven.
This time I stood in confused awe by the styling wands. Ricky’s had such a range of options that I realized I needed to do some research before committing.
Paralysis by analysis.