My skin is pallid. To the point where if my children awoke suddenly and noticed me, they might run to their father and swear it was snowing outside. Or in the bathroom… where I’ve been hiding. Frankly, I need a tan. A tan to go with my short-as-all haircut. Because you can’t have a bush of hair and look like molding wax. That would just be unfair to the people who have to look at you. So, it is for them, that I insist on flashing the poor woman who works the tanning airbrush, my cellulite ass.

My hair is so short, in fact, that I’ve refused to wash it. I’m too frightened of how it will look curly. It’s that short. Shorter than it has ever been. And here’s the rub: I really liked the man who cut it. I just don’t like his fcuking scissor happy singers. WTF.

So to help face my short locks, I’m thinking a tan will help. A tan, some non-porn shimmer, a coat or two of happy polish, some gloss, and a big hat to hide in. The only horizontal stripes, though, will be reserved for my feet. I think I deserve those gold coin necklaces. Everyone looks healthier and wealthier with a few coins in her life. You know I’ve always been a total Nars Whorelette, so I thought I’d play at a few fun collages to inspire me not to cry, and to instead, embrace the elliptical machine.

I realize that it looks quite long in the photos, but I promise it’s an illusion. It’s not as layered as I was hoping for. I like when hair looks "piecey," and I worry that once I see it curly it will still just hang there, just shorter. I think he ought to have framed my face more instead of keeping it all the same length around the face. I do, however, love the highlights he added.