Wednesday, May 9, 2012

What kind of person cuts their own hair? And What-We-Ate-Tuesday onWednesday

Sunday before church, I was faced with a real pickle.  Overnight my bangs had gone from long, sexy eye curtains to something that was more sheepdog than bombshell.


As I came around the corner with my sewing scissors in hand and a determined look in my eye, the Great and Powerful Oz said warily, "Don't do it, Jenni. We aren't the type of people that cut their own hair."


Now I don't really know what the hell he's talking about because I am exactly the type of person that cuts their own hair.


Once in high school, I did such a bang-up job of cutting my bangs that a friend observing my handiwork begged me to do hers next. Premonition and self-preservation prohibited me from accepting her challenge . . . at least initially. 

Eventually her praise for what was obviously a God-given talent for hair cutting got to me and I caved.

As the first strands of her hair fell, I knew that she had made a bad, bad choice entrusting me with her locks. The scissoring sound of metal upon metal still haunts me. As does the scream that followed.

She couldn't be my friend after that. True story. I would feel bad about it but since I did warn her, that one's on her. 

And, apparently, I never learn because I did in fact . . . against the Great Oz's recommendation . . . cut my own hair on Sunday. And I did a poor job of it too.  

I look like my bangs were trimmed by a psychotic drunken barber with a chainsaw.

Its a disaster.  I missed a big section, so now I have two different levels of bangs. It doesn't look good whether I wear my hair up or down.  This is the halo effect after I run: 

Simply gorgeous, right?  But, I guess it could be worse.   I could look like this:

Bangs don't really fit in with my "haircut-once-every-six months" routine.  Even so, Oz was right.  And, I am going to seek professional help...for my hair, not my decision making (not yet, anyway).

Now for:   What-We-Ate-Tuesday on Wednesday.

Breakfast:  I made breakfast right after I published the peanut butter oatmeal post, and it was all I could think about.  So, I made a small bowl and coupled it with a egg white omelet topped with laughing cow cheese, cherry tomatoes, and avocado.

Lunch:  It was a Dallas day.  I had lunch with three of the finest IP attorneys in Dallas.  And, I'm not saying that because two of them are partners in my office who could have a direct impact on my future car buying escapades. I'm just saying... 

We had lunch at State and Allen.  I usually get the "silver bowl" salad, but today I branched out and got the Ahi Tuna salad. 

Its a decent serving of cabbage topped with seared tuna.  It did not disappoint . . . their salads never do.  But unfortunately, I was hungry two hours later.

I didn't capture any pictures of my lunch dates' meals, or their faces when I took a picture of mine. But, the image of them dipping french fries in mayonnaise and the gentle (or some might say inappropriate) caress that the waitress gave one of them while calling him "sweetie" is burned into my mind forever. Like my Ahi Tuna salad, my Dallas days never disappoint.  

Snack:   I brought my snack from home.  Yes, that is a Mario Brothers lunch box sitting on a fancy-smancy desk in a high-browed, international law firm in downtown D-town.  I don't stand out at all.  Snack time was a piece of string cheese and two cuties.

Dinner:  I was exhausted from my tough day in Dallas (lunch, Target run, etc.), so I threw some leftover pulled pork carnitas from skinny taste (that woman,Gina, is a genius) on a lavash bread.  Melted some reduced fat colby jack on top, and topped with sliced Roma tomatoes and wholly guacamole. 

Clearly, I ate two of these bad boys.  I won't apologize.  I was hungry.

And, I may or may not . . . you decide . . . have had a small piece of a World's Finest Chocolate Almond Bar with a scoop of natural peanut butter while I made dinner.  But, there is no proof of that. 


No comments:

Post a Comment