Pink for the Cure
March 19, 2007
Am totally over the pink hair, to be honest. Everyone assumes I'm Noah's nanny and a little old lady did that shifting-handbag thing in an elevater the other day. And I got fucking dagger eyes from another mother at the mall when she saw me dashing out of Gap Kids after my escapee toddler. It was fun at first but now I am over it. I am ready to be my boring, status quo, washed-out blonde self again.
But I'm not washing it out. In fact, I'm getting ready to re-color it. Gulp.
I am keeping it pink until this team is fully funded for the D.C. Avon Walk for Breast Cancer on May 5th and 6th. Gulp.
Once they hit their goal of $7,000 I can jump in the shower with an economy-sized bottle of shampoo, but not until then.
I originally planned to walk with them, but I'm honestly not sure I can get in shape in time. I have been...uh...more than slightly glued to the couch for the majority of the past year. So 39 miles in a little over a month sounds like a recipe for a wheezing, whining disaster. So instead of offering up my hamstrings, I can offer up my hair.
Look! They're almost halfway there already! Is easy! We can totally do it!
And now for the biggest gulp-worthy challenge of all: if the Pink Ladies raise $10,000 or more I will dye my hair any freaking color you guys pick. We'll do a poll, or something. So if you've ever kind of decided that you secretly hate me and everything I stand for (life! liberty! handbags! and the pursuit of whole-milk cheese!), now's the time to parlay that hate into something good. Donate now and then tell me to dye my hair electric green.
Which: oh, Jesus. I look hideous in neon.
(My mom is still 100% cancer-free, by the way. The masectomy recovery was a long, hard road, but she appears to have kicked cancer's ass completely. Yay! But still, there is Too Much Fucking Cancer out there. Enough with the Fucking Cancer. Let's kick Fucking Cancer in the Fucking Nuts! Go team! Woot!)