The difference a year makes

Look at how short my hair was last year at this time!

And check it out now!

I should really start wearing lipstick again.

I think that I'm going to start doing "more" with myself.

Lately I've been feeling not-so-foxy. I was asked out at work on Friday and blushed with disbelief that anyone would be so silly as to want to ask me to do anything. I just feel... OLD... and reptilian... and fat... and BLAH. I feel like a big, obese crocodile with poor eye sight and bad hair.

Okay, the reality is this: there is nothing that I can do about my hair. Anyone who has ever grown her or his hair from super-short to super-long knows the mushroom place where my head will be for the next six months. It sucks. But, I knew what I was getting into and I'm simply going to have to see past my mushroom head and imagine the beautiful, luscious, long, pantene pro-v hair that I'll someday have. With any luck, 2011 will see another pregnancy and I'll have the growth support of pre-natal vitamins.

I think that I"m going to make a true effort to put on a bit of make-up each day. Not a ton. Just a bit. And maybe buy a few new, nice clothes? Get some new frames. Take more bubble baths. Paint my TOE NAILS. Use body butter every day. Pluck.

I am just tired of feeling like a turtle (the kind you see at the zoo. Not the kind in Chinatown).

Well Folks, it's official...

I have LET MYSELF GO.

I have wanted a new profile picture for my facebook. My hair is growing like a worm-compost tea fed flower garden and it's at this super-awkward stage. Stage: WORST OF THE WORST. I don't want to use dread pics anymore and the super short doo that I had previously isn't really what I look like... so I went to take some new pics today.

And damn.

Mama has got bags under her eyes that she didn't even know were there. It's like, beneath my eyes hides all of the emotional baggage of generations of tortured people.

Just LOOK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

MOTHER OF GOD!!!!! What has happened to my face?

And just as proof of the hair hell where I reside,

I have resorted to this:

From the back I appear to be a chubby 4th grader.

And from the front I look like I'm 50.