French
Friday I french braided my hair. I even did it underneath so that the braid shows through on the top.
My only problem with doing my own hair? It's not quite tight enough and I KNOW that there are little pieces sticking out. They are only made worse by my screwing with it, but they bug me. I keep thinking..I can just tuck that piece in and then NO ONE will see. It will be fine. Really, it will be.
Sure. It doesn't bother me at all.
Let's talk about something else...like the sniffer, did I mention that her cheeks are too long and she kinda looks like a baboon?
(There's a piece sticking out, I KNOW there is.)
Actually this whole hair thing has just reminded me of being a teenager. I used to fuss with my hair SO much. If my mother wanted me to go to the store, even for one thing, my hair had to be perfect. NO little pieces sticking out, perfectly following the line of my head. If it wasn't perfect, I would re-do it. Over and over again. It got so she wouldn't even ask me to go, cause she could go and be back before I even left. She always asked me why, and I was like..you never know who you will run into in the grocery store...yes, even at ten at night.
I don't care, it could be someone important. (God, being a teenager sucked)
In 8th grade, I wouldn't do my hair before I left, just put it up in a pony-tail until I got to school. My first class after home room was Algebra and I would sit in class and french braid my hair over and over again. I would get it all done and then I would feel a bump and I would take it back down and start over.
My Algebra teacher must've hated me. But he never said anything. So, I just kept doing it.
I'm not anal retentive, not at all.
When I would go to the store, after fixing my hair, I wouldn't even wear a helmet, cause then it would be messed up. I would rather risk life and limb than have my hair messed up.
That's bad. Once I ran into a guy who didn't have a light on his bike. I ran RIGHT into him and it was VERY sudden. It was like...I'm happily riding and then I'm on the ground. I jammed my finger and my leg was twitching so bad I had to walk the bike home. The guy felt so bad and I wasn't really hurt, but I did let him give me a cigarette.
I coulda hurt my brain. Perhaps I did. You never know.
My only problem with doing my own hair? It's not quite tight enough and I KNOW that there are little pieces sticking out. They are only made worse by my screwing with it, but they bug me. I keep thinking..I can just tuck that piece in and then NO ONE will see. It will be fine. Really, it will be.
Sure. It doesn't bother me at all.
Let's talk about something else...like the sniffer, did I mention that her cheeks are too long and she kinda looks like a baboon?
(There's a piece sticking out, I KNOW there is.)
Actually this whole hair thing has just reminded me of being a teenager. I used to fuss with my hair SO much. If my mother wanted me to go to the store, even for one thing, my hair had to be perfect. NO little pieces sticking out, perfectly following the line of my head. If it wasn't perfect, I would re-do it. Over and over again. It got so she wouldn't even ask me to go, cause she could go and be back before I even left. She always asked me why, and I was like..you never know who you will run into in the grocery store...yes, even at ten at night.
I don't care, it could be someone important. (God, being a teenager sucked)
In 8th grade, I wouldn't do my hair before I left, just put it up in a pony-tail until I got to school. My first class after home room was Algebra and I would sit in class and french braid my hair over and over again. I would get it all done and then I would feel a bump and I would take it back down and start over.
My Algebra teacher must've hated me. But he never said anything. So, I just kept doing it.
I'm not anal retentive, not at all.
When I would go to the store, after fixing my hair, I wouldn't even wear a helmet, cause then it would be messed up. I would rather risk life and limb than have my hair messed up.
That's bad. Once I ran into a guy who didn't have a light on his bike. I ran RIGHT into him and it was VERY sudden. It was like...I'm happily riding and then I'm on the ground. I jammed my finger and my leg was twitching so bad I had to walk the bike home. The guy felt so bad and I wasn't really hurt, but I did let him give me a cigarette.
I coulda hurt my brain. Perhaps I did. You never know.
Comments
You must teach me or bill how to do this sometime :)
With the help of barbies, troll dolls, and my own hair.
It's really not very hard. It's getting it tight that's hard.
(hee hee)