Yes, the debate has already begun, should Christmas be celebrated before Thanksgiving, or does the turkey deserve its due? If you are a defender of the cornucopia, I’m here to tell you, that argument is so 2016. Move over mashed potatoes, it’s time for the jack-o-lantern to scare away those jolly elves who want their lighted tree to shine in … October?
I am all for celebrating any and all holidays, and if you have a party, I’m there. But, Thanksgiving lovers caught in a tryptophan daze just lost the fight with Christmas, and the sleigh bells have moved on to a new target to conquer, Halloween.
I’m sure the Boo Day purists will find it offensive walking into a Home Depot right now, only to find their inflatable Grim Reapers replaced by red-nosed reindeers. Don’t let what happened to the turkey happen to the ghost, instead of battling with old St. Nick for your day, take over a holiday you can dwarf. Maybe, Labor Day or any one of the 30+ holidays in August can be your focus. I might want to stay away from Independence Day, that one might blow-up in your face.
Decorate if you want to decorate, dress up if you want to dress up, celebrate Valentine’s Day or Mother’s Day months in advance, I’m okay with that.
And on this day of ghost and ghouls, Merry Christmas!
I feel a little bit robbed.
I apparently have an abnormality, which I was not made aware of until recently. I possess something so large, I was told to hide my monstrosity, before anyone of importance could see it. Why wasn’t I alerted to this previously? I have lived day in and day out for years without even thinking about it, but apparently it is so severe, it has interfered with my work. And now that it has been pointed out to me, my obsession over it is repeatedly hitting me head on.
Maybe I should consider it the opposite of an obstacle, maybe an endowment … it’s said that bigger is better. Right? What I feel like is the better part of a fool, one who so unknowingly and prominently has been displaying this freak of nature, like it was a natural occurrence.
My ignorance of this anomaly I have, has been taken from me and I want it back.
So, if you catch me staring at your forehead, forgive me, I’m not judging you, I’m judging me.
The funny thing about motherhood is that it changes so much of your life, but in some ways it keeps you stuck in a rut. Your emotions change, your body changes, and life as you know it, changes. Everything is different and even the changes are consistently changing too. One thing that hadn’t changed for me, was my hair.
The last time I had significantly refashioned my hair was when I was pregnant. I fell for the false theory that short hair is easier to care for by new moms who now have a baby slung to their chests and have less time to be worried about their appearance. Wrong! I still made the time in my day to style my now short hair, just as I did my long hair. During pregnancy my hair was growing rapidly due to the hormones having a heyday in my system, ten inches were removed and donated to Locks of Love, again prompted by the hormones. Just thinking about children having to deal with cancer would bring me to tears.
Well, I haven’t been pregnant for seven years and for the last several years I have been wearing my hair long, maybe the longest since I was a little girl, and I have been afraid of cutting it. I don’t know why. I really need to cut my hair.
When I turned forty I decided I couldn’t cut it then because I’M FORTY! And I didn’t want it to become my “midlife crisis hairdo,” so I immediately came to the conclusion that forty and forty-five were off-limits for cutting my hair. Both of those ages seemed to be the stereotypical midlife crisis ages. With that line of thinking, I knew forty-two was the right age for me to get out of my hair rut. So, I kicked the midlife crisis can down the road.
Forty-two really is a good age, you’re no longer uncomfortable with facing the fourth decade of your life, it’s a confident age, a comfortable time and still closer to forty than forty-five. Whew. Well, I am anxiously seven months into my “comfortable age” and my hair has not changed. Until now.
My almost twelve inches will again go to Locks of Love and I figured if Jared Leto could do it, so could I.