First off, let's talk about the baby hair net I'm about to have to invent. I feel like I might be on to something big here, because a cursory amount of research on Google just revealed to me that no one's cornered that market just yet. I'm pretty much Sara Blakely staring at pantyhose right now, moments before Spanx were born. Why a baby hair net, you ask? This idea/dream/vision has sprung out of the reality that is my baby's massive amount of hair being used as a food receptacle. Every meal is followed by a hazmat zone having been created on her head. I'm over picking tomatoes and mushy cheese out of my child's bouffant and so, the baby hair net must be brought to life. I'll be starting my Kickstarter campaign soon and I know you'll all want to be a part of my soon-to-be baby hairnet empire. Baby Hair Nets!!
In other hair-related news, I'm also pondering one of the many aftermaths of pregnancy, which is that my face is now framed by two-inch long hairs that are returning to the fold after having fallen out four months after giving birth. This travesty didn't happen to me the first time around the baby-having block and I thought it was just the stuff of post-partum legend. And then I had a girl baby and all my hair fell out. Well, not all. But, more than was comfortable for me and my mirror. If you've seen me in the last few months, you may have noticed what's happening on my head and questioned my ability to style my own hair. These rogue hairs stick straight up no matter what I do. Matt comments on them occasionally and the words "punk" and "rocker" were used to describe these crazy hairs on the way to church yesterday. For the love of Sally Beauty Supply, does anybody know what to do about these??
This brings me to another pertinent, semi-related topic and that is the subject of culouttes. Anthropologie is pushing these hard for the fall and I feel a nervous tightening in my chest at the thought of this trend taking over the fashion world again. I thought I'd left this clothing catastrophe in my big-banged, over-denimed, middle-school past. These should be wadded up and placed in a time capsule, buried deep in the earth, with a note explaining to future generations that these were the beginning of the end of fashion. Hopefully, our children's children will heed that warning. Obviously, Anthro hasn't fully counted the cost yet. Maybe I should send them a picture from my eighth grade year to give them a heads up. I plan on wearing yoga pants all week in defiance.
Lastly, now that I've gotten these things off my chest, I'll mention one more thing that has been on my mind lately. Let's talk about how I have 3,534 pictures on my phone. And how I lie awake at night feeling anxious about my children's childhood being preserved in actual, hard-copied pictures rather than on my phone, which will surely die before I have the time to sort through all those Instagram shots. I also have a camera full of pictures, a computer full of pictures, and a handful of pictures that I've actually, by some miracle, printed out which are in great need of being placed in a scrapbook of some sort. It's becoming a problem that may be contributing to the new set of lines around my eyes when I squint, smile, laugh and also when I have no expression at all. Gah.
And now that I've gotten all that off my chest, who's ready to find solutions to some real problems, like what we're going to do about genetically modified food, the Ebola virus and the ubiquitousness of Kim Kardashian? Discuss.
