Thursday, November 14, 2013

Throwback Thursday: Drunk Fringe

Happy Throwback Thursday!  Today I present to you:  the hottest picture of me ever taken!  YAY!!!  This photo was taken at a brunch with Tim's family.  I can almost guarantee it was either Mother's Day or my mother-in-law's birthday because we're at Cheesecake Factory and Linda loves that place.  Linda's birthday actually happens to be tomorrow so allow me to score some daughter-in-law points by wishing her a happy day. (How many points do you think a blog mention will get me?) Anyway, HAPPY BIRTHDAY LINDA!

Okay, back to the photo.  We were at The Cheesecake Factory in Redondo Beach.  I think this was around 2005 or 2006.  A few days before, Tim and I had gotten very drunk in our old Silverlake apartment when I mentioned I needed to get my bangs trimmed.  Tim, because he's a very happy and helpful drunk, said, "Oh, I can do that no problem."

I said, "Really, would you?  That would be so nice and it would save me a trip into the salon!  You're the best!  Are you sure??"

"I got this," he said.  and then he cut roughly 500 inches off of my bangs.

I remember laughing so hard.  Like, cry laughing.  Like on the bathroom floor howling with tears streaming down my way too exposed itty bitty bangs-ed face.  I remember picking up the hair from the floor and holding it up against my tiny fringe, which made the two of us go into hysterics.  Everything was funny and fine.  Until the next morning.

In the harsh light of day, my haircut was definitely laughable.  The super short bangs accentuated how curly/frizzy the rest of my hair was.  They highlighted my pointy prominent nose.  They showed off my lovely hangover face.  They looked like they belonged on a hot voluptuous rockabilly babe.  In other words, not me.

Ultimately, I look at this picture and I'm proud of myself.  Instead of freaking out or wearing a hat or a scarf for a few months, I decided to just rock it.  I never cried about it.  Well, not after that first drunk cry-laugh.  Not in the shower or when I was plastering my bangs with product and flat ironing the shit out of them so they wouldn't turn into a frizzy poof.  Tim felt bad enough about it.  (I mean, he had to look at me.)  Bitching about it would have only made him feel worse and wasn't going to make my bangs grow back any quicker.  It took a few months before I looked presentable again.  I think this is the only surviving photo from those dark days.

I've had bangs a few times since them.  But, I haven't let Tim touch them.  Moral of the story, kids, don't drink and trim.  Don't drink and trim.

Be safe out there.

*photo by Tim, 2005ish.