Roots

Lately, there's been a lot of talk about roots on this here blog. In keeping with that theme, and in overwhelming response to Friday's post, I made a decision about my hair.

I came into this world with flaming red hair, so I'm taking it back to the old school. Believe it or not, the baby below is actually me. Don't feel bad that I wasn't a cute baby, I've fully admitted it and clearly accept it. (Can you tell it's me? I've still got that crazy widow's peak and cowlicks going on. Not so much going on is the emaciated legs, one-piece sleepers and old man/primate look. ... I hope.)















That's right friz-ends. I decided to keep with the red for another go-round. Honest, honest, honestly, I had full intentions going into the salon of coming out blonde, but knew that I would leave a redhead. Rachel is a good convincer!

I had specific requests for me with red hair with actual other people. Fine Kendall, your wish is my command.

Some of my absolute favorite ladies in B-Town: Marie, Kylee, and Julie:

Here's my sounding board and one of my biggest supporters herself: (and a perfect example of a downward-sloping smile:

LEFT: I have impeccable balance. Try to figure those angles out.

RIGHT: The name of this sculpture was literally "Feral Goose." Remember how much I hate birds (especially geese)? This is my both kicking and punching that feral goose.

So, which is the strangest? The fact that I was actually born with the exact hair color I have now? That I actually had thin legs once upon a time? That there are finally documented photos of me being *outside* in Boston? That I can't just let go of the terrible, terrible injustice those geese did to me? That I accidentally wore two very different earrings the entire night? That the night ended up with me eating a spoonful of Miracle Whip? The fact that I actually blogged on a Sunday?