Potato soup and a salon murder mystery.

First off, I think you need to know how much fun writing yesterday’s post was for me.  Nerd alert: I’m not sure which I love more, logical rules or pointing out the inconsistencies of rules that are failures.

New developments:  I’m wearing my period pants, my “fat” pants, my stretchy pants or whatever else you want to call them.  The ones that made me the most comfy when I used to get bloated are quickly becoming my BFFs.  ‘Cause that’s how I look these days, bloated.

Additionally, my shift started at noon yesterday and I didn’t take a morning nap!  Not only did I not take one, I didn’t feel like I needed one!  Not only that, but I was able to come home and have the energy to both brush my teeth and wash my face aaaaand put away clothes aaaaaaaaaaaand read more Pilgrim’s Progress!  Whaaaaaaaat?!  Change is a’comin’…

Food stuff: I’m also averaging 6-7 small grocery store trips a week.  It has come to my realization that if food is sitting around available to me in abundance, that food is completely undesirable due to quantity alone.  But if it’s far, far away, requiring a trip in the car, that food is the only food that will keep me stable and functioning.

Thinking back, I can’t recall a time in the last 5-7 years that I’ve eaten potato soup.  But last night?  If I didn’t haaaaave potato sooooooup…  Okay, I don’t know the end of that sentence, but it seemed pretty devastating.

Salon observations: All of the clients who now realize that the last time they saw me I was secretly pregnant insist that they did notice that I was especially quiet.  True.  That’s how I deal with general discomfort.

That said, not every client who sits in my chair is finding out that I’m pregnant yet.  There are going to be plenty who are surprised to see my belly growing down the road.  Presently, if a client asks, “How are you?  What’s going on with you?  Is there anything new?” or so forth and so on, I’m happy to share the news.  But, believe it or not, there are many appointments in which that question is never posed (and – shockingly! – they don’t read Square Piece!).  That’s just fine.  First of all, not everyone needs to be interested in me, think that I’m enchanting or want to be involved in the details of my life.  (Remember the Squash Blossom Necklace?  I don’t need to matter to everyone!)  Second of all, just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean that there aren’t still people who need an outlet to talk about themselves.  At the end of the day, I’m still their counselor, therapist, friend and confidant.  So if the conversation never once turns to me, that’s no biggie.  (It has made me wonder, though, if I’ve ever been that way towards others… dumping my life on them when they’re secretly and quietly holding on to and processing their own major changes.)

In other salon news, I’m trying to solve a murder mystery.  For the second time, I’ve arrived for the new work week with my Crazy Hairstylist pen completely decapitated!  Except this time the gruesome butcher left her without her legs as well!  I brought Crazy Hairstylist home to fix her wounds and resurrect her (yet again), but, alas, I’m out of super glue for now.  Crazy Hairstylist remains in pieces.

And while we’re still on the topic of hair, I’ve noticed that my scalp is drier than usual.  It’s never been that oily in the first place (at least, not since puberty), but I can go a total of – brace yourself – at least five days without shampooing and it doesn’t look grungy.  Sweet!

(If you think that’s disgusting, it’s probably because your hair would be disgusting in five days.  But if you had model hair in five days, wouldn’t that be a luxury?)