My hair appointment today was fantabulous, as expected. I read a whole stack of celebrity rag mags, set a centerfold of Matthew McConaughey up in our station for me and my stylist to drool over, had a nice (big) glass of wine, had wonderful literary discussion and was sent home with pretty hair, a list of recommended reading for our next meet up, and an offer to be a model in a class she's teaching.
That's an awesome deal because she would do my hair in the class for free and then do my next round of highlights for free. She's teaching a class on "base-breaking" which means dying all of the crazy, horn/wing like baby hairs forming an ugly halo around my head whenever I put my hair into a ponytail. Who would have thought that the handfuls of hair lost (and mourned) after the little kid would actually benefit me in some way?
I was just pleased as punch to get free haircare and the opportunity for all eyes to be on me, me, me but then I found out that the class is on the evening of the Big Kid's birthday. Damn it. The ONE NIGHT A YEAR I have to feel guilty about going. It would be less than an hour...I could be home by (a late) dinner. He is having a kick ass party on another day. Damn it, don't I deserve some free pretty hair and some attention for giving birth almost 4 years ago and keeping him alive this long??I really do think *I* am the one who should be celebrated on the kids' birthdays, it truly wasn't possible without me and so far, it's been easy living on their parts.
Also, the free hair appointment would make up for a good chunk of the insane amount of money spent on birthday parties and presents around here. I'll tell him I'm running out to buy him some balloons (and will make sure to come home with balloons). I think it's win-win.