I'm going to ask the government for a grant to support my research...
I call it the I Actually Did Something With My Hair And You Keep Ruining It For Me phenomenon. It's when I do something out of the ordinary with my hair -- whether it be styled or just precariously clipped back with a bazillion bobby-pins to keep it out of my eyes -- and my husband decides touching my head has suddenly become the most amazing, fascinating, rewarding sport EVER.
I think I've yelled at him a dozen times for upsetting the delicate half-can-of-hairspray-and-eight-bobby-pins balance I achieved this morning. My hair is twisted in impossible ways that I thought actually came out quite well considering the fact that I hadn't run a brush through it and it was before 9am, therefore I was still asleep.
After several incidents with pillows, one with a fuzzy blanket, a couple with his hands, and even a few with his stubbly head... I'm ready to inflict grievous bodily harm the next time he even looks my way. It's like my hair suddenly becomes a super-powered magnet when I do something different with it... Or maybe something flips in my husband and he instantly becomes hellbent on its destruction.
Either way, it's about to end badly for him.
I think I've yelled at him a dozen times for upsetting the delicate half-can-of-hairspray-and-eight-bobby-pins balance I achieved this morning. My hair is twisted in impossible ways that I thought actually came out quite well considering the fact that I hadn't run a brush through it and it was before 9am, therefore I was still asleep.
After several incidents with pillows, one with a fuzzy blanket, a couple with his hands, and even a few with his stubbly head... I'm ready to inflict grievous bodily harm the next time he even looks my way. It's like my hair suddenly becomes a super-powered magnet when I do something different with it... Or maybe something flips in my husband and he instantly becomes hellbent on its destruction.
Either way, it's about to end badly for him.