Holy Frizzoli, Batman...

I've been trying to grow my hair out for a year now. I've worn it short since I was about 15 (ya, do the math, it's been forever). For many years it has been extremely low maintenance -- no product, no hair dryer, no curling irons -- just me, a dry towel and my hands. Great way to live.

I just remembered that the first time I met my daughter's future Mother-in-law, she told Trish that she thought I'd be way more foofy. Hey - I'm not foofy? And I'm sure she thought that because Trish is a high maintenance girl!

As the old grey hair has grown, so has the rediscovery of my natural curls -- lots of them! It's been kind of fun in a way but I've really gone through some awkward stages and I'm sure that will continue.

Anyway, when "the Dish" came home for Christmas, she trimmed up my shagginess and gave me a new style. Now I'm using product, a flat iron, and trying to be coordinated and keep my tongue in my mouth while I'm fixing this stuff every morning.

I usually let my hair air dry, but tonight I got it in my head that I'd blow it dry and use my new big round brush to save some time in the morning. I've proven once again that I'm a great spaz and I look like Rosanne Rosanna Danna now (except with grey/white hair)! Ah, the humiliation of it all...

So what possessed me to try this "longer" hair version of myself? Who knows. What else do I have to do?

You're kidding, right?

So... Last week Biker Dude and I went to see a Dermatologist 'cause we're getting old and wanted to get naked in front of someone we never met before. He went first and came out of the office with a spot on his earlobe that was pre-cancer and the Dr. had frozen it. He's had it done before on several spots and it was no biggie to him - he's such a stud.



Then it was my turn. The Dr. found several spots on my left cheek (yes, on my face -- no butt jokes). She gave me the option of using some potion that would leave me looking like a burn victim after three weeks, or doing the freeze thing. I told her to just zap me and get it over with. She said she saw 5 spots and would be done in a flash. This wasn't really too bad a procedure, but felt like I was being sandblasted by a zillion freezing little needles -- sorta stung, but I've been through worse. Here's was it looked like (sorry for those of you with a low gag reflex).

Mind you, this is on my left cheekbone and about an inch in diameter. It never blistered, but got darker each day as it scabbed over and looked pretty weird. The strangest part is the reaction I got from people around me. Some that I don't even know. I'd almost forget that it was there and then...

**

"Oh my dear, did you burn yourself with a curling iron?"

"Yes, FIVE times in a row!"

**

"Have your grandkids been face painting on you?"

"No, this is just a little splatter from the chocolate pudding I had for lunch, oops!"

**

"Wow, that looks just like a Panther Paw." (the Panther is our High School Mascot)

"Yup, big game this weekend!"

**

"What happened to you?"

"Oh, my son introduced me to the new fad of branding. Much cooler than a tattoo, don't you think?"

**

"What the heck is that?"

"Oh, I was down at McDonald's waiting very impatiently for my McFlurry and they had to Taser me!"

Why is it that people are so anxious to point out our obvious flaws?