Please Excuse Me While I Puke in Your Bathroom

Today was the first Saturday I've had to myself in a month. I hadn't gotten nearly enough sleep all week and was looking forward to sleeping in. So when I looked at the clock and saw that it was 11:45am I was pretty pleased. I rolled out of bed, thinking I had time for a quick trip to the gym before I had to get ready and leave for a hair appointment, but soon realized that I wouldn't be making it to the gym.

I wasn't feeling so hot. My stomach wasn't interested in doing anything other than sitting still.

But I really wanted a haircut. I had been thinking about it for weeks and finally just motivated myself to actually pick a salon and make an appointment yesterday. So, I skipped the gym and slowly got ready for the day. I even grabbed a bowl of Cheerios thinking that maybe my stomach was upset because I hadn't eaten in 17 hours.

After I got to the salon the nausea grew stronger and stronger. She was only half-way done styling my hair - I had started sweating profusely (the blow drying didn't help) and watched in the mirror as my face turned whiter and whiter. She asked me what I liked to do for fun and as I tried to answer I had to stop and say, "I'm sorry, I'm not feeling so great. Do you know where the nearest bathroom is and could I get a glass of water?". The bathroom was right next to us and she unsnapped my cape so I could make a quick getaway if necessary. I think she was nervous. I would have been.

She finally finished and I immediately walked to the bathroom and threw up my Cheerios. Several times. I hate throwing up, but it's even worse (not to mention embarrassing) doing it in a public restroom. The good news was that it's a pretty nice salon, so the bathroom was probably cleaner than my own.

I'm pretty sure I made an awesome first impression.

Oh, and when I say I got my hair cut, I mean really cut. I told her that I just wanted a couple inches off to clean everything up, but that I was open to suggestions since my hair has been pretty blah for a while. She told me that I had a "really pretty neck" and that I might want to think about going shorter. A pretty neck, eh? I've never thought of necks being pretty or ugly (unless we're talking about the guy I sat behind in 9th grade US History...gross), but I'll take what I can get so I told her to go for it.

This is what my hair looked like yesterday on the way to Bellingham:
And this is what it looks like today:
I'm undecided but am leaning toward liking it. We'll see how it looks on a day when I have to do it myself and I haven't spent the day either bent over the toilet or laying in bed.