A lot of kids would have screamed and cried, but my mom says that I just blinked for a moment in disbelief. And then laughed my ass off.
Friday was a beautiful day to celebrate this great land of freedom and suspect gun regulations. Deliciousness was consumed, trees were climbed, and I got to watch a live improv show in the company of approximately 200 east coast high schoolers. These colors don’t run.
Yesterday was a lazy, post-4th-of-July kind of Saturday. The sky was blue and the breeze was warm and my morning was spent on a walk with one of my favorite friends. As the next logical step, I decided to spend the afternoon locked in a window-less bathroom with harsh chemicals.
I grabbed a bottle of blonde hair dye from the cabinet and slathered it on my quickly-becoming-ridiculous roots. About half an hour later, I decided to check in on my hair and see how much my roots had lightened.
My roots? Not Medium Ash Blonde.
My roots? Medium Extremely Dark Brown.
The rest of my hair? Still light blonde.
I thought there must have been a mix-up at the factory and a bottle of brown was switched for a bottle of blonde. The top two or three inches of my hair were a deep chestnut brown, with the rest of my hair a shimmery summer blonde. I blinked for a moment in disbelief.
And then I laughed my ass off.
A rinse-out and blow-dry later, my hair wasn’t quite the duotone phenomenon I was expecting. Instead, it was a surprisingly uniform highlighted silver: a shade normally found on pinched-faced sorority girls and the AARP set.
At this point, I had a few options:
Ten minutes later, my options were drastically limited. My options were limited when, despite experiencing zero nausea all day, I suddenly found myself puking my guts out. And then again ten minutes later. And then again. And again.
For the next five hours.
Throwing up is pretty high on my list of Least Favorite Pasttimes, but I’ll admit that all Vomit Sessions are not created equal. Sometimes it’s quick and it’s clean and it’s over. And other times? It is not. Other times it’s like your small and large intestines are being dragged up your throat by fire ants in a river of viscous goo. I’ll let you guess which time this was.
Every time. For five hours.
On the upside, I threw up not only everything I’d eaten that day, but also everything that I’d ever eaten in my entire life previous to that, as well as everything I’d ever considered eating in the future. I am now a size two and have a killer six-pack from all the dry heaving.
Silver lining, y’all, silver lining.
I finally fell asleep around ten o’clock and, for that, I am enormously thankful. I woke up this morning a bit shaky on my feet and seriously dehydrated, but feeling considerably more like a human being. Since I’m still not 100%, I’m keeping myself to a strict Sick Yuppie Diet for the next 24-48 hours.
You know who else is amazing? Clare and Matt and Jennifer for calling/texting/emailing me multiple times to offer up their Saturday night for hair-holding and hot-water-bottle-bearing. I didn’t take them up on the offer, but just knowing I have such wonderful friends makes me feel warm and squishy inside.
Or maybe that’s the E. coli.
4th of July photos courtesy of JP