6 months to my 44th birthday today, so my half-birthday present was to go get my hair cut.
I am a party animal, for sure.
So the results above are me running my hands through freshly cut hair to play with them and move them around right after they were trimmed.
I tried to be grown up and bangless. I managed it for three years now. In fact, now that I think about it, I was just growing them out when all the fibroid mess started. Correlation is not causation, but still.
I had bangs pretty much my entire life, 40 years straight unless you count baby fuzz, and I decided this morning it was high time I get back to them. I'm just not cut out (ha!) for full forehead nudity.
I was actually pulling on them in the bathroom this morning, contemplating grabbing the scissors and doing it myself when Bob sees me staring at an 8 inch strand that's about to become a 3 inch strand and says, "You aren't about to cut your own hair."
Well, I guess not NOW. So I went and let someone who knows what they're doing have at it. Spoil sport.
Also for my 43.5 birthday, I got the news that my next excitement is going to be a CAT scan.
Here's how the past few days have gone:
Me: Friday, calling the urologist, leaving a message that I was told to call today for ultrasound results.
Nurse: Friday, later, calling me back, saying they were normal. Did the Dr. say he wanted to see me again?
Me: "Um, I have no idea. He seemed to think this would rule something out, but I don't know?"
Nurse: "Hmm, I will ask him and call you back."
Nurse : Monday, "I talked to Dr. S. and he said to ask if you were still in pain?"
Me: "Um, yes. Pretty much constantly, but he said he didn't think it was likely urologically related, hence the ruling-out ultrasound?"
Nurse: "Hmm. Okay, I will tell him and call back if you need to schedule anything else."
Andrea: Tuesday, "Hi Victoria, I'm Andrea, calling to schedule your CAT scan?"
And now you know as much as I do.
I'm all for a little mystery and excitement on my half birthday, but this was not what I had in mind.