I had a opportunity come up where I had to go somewhere and do something and appearance was important.
So I said to myself, "Self, it's time to update the mommy hair and get all spiffied up so that you look nice and hopefully no one will notice that your muffin top goes clear to your nose. "
Anyway, I made my hair appointment. The gal did exactly what I asked her to do, but instead of looking cute and flirty like the model in the photo, I looked more like...
I went home and looked in the mirror and said to myself, "Self, I do think you are sporting a mullet!"
I called my sister, who is much more on top of things like hair styles and color and what to do if things go awry...and her advice to me was, "Well, go back and have her cut more off of the bottom! You don't want to go to your thing feeling like Joe Dirt!"
So I did. Both Self and I were much relieved.
Despite my de-mulleting, the next day at pre-school, one little *cherub* said, "Miss Meridith, you look SILLY." Same cherub responds a minute later to a classmate saying, "Miss Meridith, you're funny!" (which was fine, since that was actually what I was aiming for at the moment) by saying, "Miss Sara is FUNNIER."
49.7% of me wanted to look right at the little sweetheart and say, "Well, that's ok. Just so long as you know that Susy there...the one you're sitting next to? She's WAY cuter and nicer than YOU are. How do you like them apples?"
Fortunately, 50.3% of me was rational enough to realize that letting a 5 year old get your goat is NOT as big a deal as losing your job. So Self and I looked at the punkin and said, "Gee! Thanks for that!" and went on our merry way.
Besides, later, at the scrapbook store, a hairdresser asked me who did my hair and said it was "FABULOUS!" I didn't detect any irony in his tone or subtle smirk...and Self decided that he probably knew WAY more about hair than a 5 year old with boogers. I agreed and thusly, a self-esteem crisis of gargantuan proportions was narrowly averted.
No thanks to Joe Dirt.