MY DRESS FITS.

I put it on once more just to be sure.

And when I say fits, I mean that it zips up – I just can’t take any deep breaths. Deep breaths are for sissies anyway.

For being so nice to me in the comments of the last post, I thought I’d share something with you.

Just kidding! That’s not my dress.

I’m sorry to fool you.

Instead, here is a photo from my hair and makeup trial.

Turns out, it’s REALLY hard to take a photo of the back of your own head, just FYI.

Here’s the makeup.

Yes, my legs really were that white. Please don’t let them blind you. I have since tanned so you’ll be able to see a difference between my skin and my dress.

Anywho.

I went to bed Thursday night with a sore jaw, and woke up Friday morning with a jaw that still hurt and a face that was roughly the size of a watermelon. To top that off, I had a sudden outbreak of bacne.

You know what bacne is? It’s acne. On your back.

The only thing I needed to look like a 10th grader again was braces and bowl cut bangs.

Thankfully the doctor called something in for the swelling, so we will hope that by tomorrow I don’t look like I gained ten pounds in my face. I will keep you posted.

TODAY I DECIDED THAT ENOUGH WAS ENOUGH. I was sick and tired of being sick and tired. I was tired of getting up an hour after my alarm goes off. Tired of rushing late out the door. Tired of clothes that don’t fit right (so that’s how that feels), tired of fast food and feeling grumpy, and tired of songs that I’ve listened to one too many times.

I didn’t know what I could do about it. It seemed like my focus was constantly pulling me in two directions. I was always thinking of what I needed to be doing, yet when I was doing what needed to be done, I was dreaming of what I wanted to be doing, and vice-versa.

It got to be pretty darn confusing, and pretty darn frustrating.

But instead of pulling my hair out, I dyed it.

Because like that isn’t a huge decision that comes complete with a side of panic attacks and it’s own subscription to This is What Your Hair Should Look Like But You Know It Won’t magazine. But like the professional I am, I took my phone with me and I documented the event regardless of any hesitation. Only for you Internet, only for you. I was a bit worried when the stylist said stuff about putting more “violet” in it this time, since I hadn’t been there in over 11 months and I was just sure she couldn’t remember me, but somehow, miraculously, she really did.

I’d give five bucks and my first born child to have her memory.

Random tangent: I feel bad for whoever my first kid is because I’ve traded them for a lot of monetary things. I always say I’ll give five bucks and my first-born child for that grilled cheese or I’m dying for a Sonic slushie. I’d pretty much give five bucks and my first-born child for one or I bet you five bucks and my first-born that Justin Bieber is really young black kid (I was wrong on this one, but dang, I was spot-on about him not being over puberty. I CALLED THAT ONE). Just giving my first-born, my baby, the fruit of my loins would be enough, as if I’d even need to throw in the five bucks, but hey! Bonus!

Sorry future child.

Momma loves ya.

But I love this meal more.

So Jenny, my hairstylist is sitting there chatting to me as she dyes my hair, and somehow she talks me into bangs again (that she didn’t charge me for) and I realize why I came back here. That woman is good for anyone’s self confidence. It felt good to socialize, talk about something different than what I was used to, forget about work and home stress and just let myself be pampered.

And I won’t lie. It felt good having someone else wash my hair for a change. I don’t know what they use but it smells amazing. I’m planning on not washing my hair for four days.

Five if I’m lucky and don’t let anyone come too close.

Don’t judge me. You know you wear your jeans just as long as that before washing them.

Don’t you?

As if all that wasn’t great enough, I walked out to my car afterwords and found Kevin had left these flowers on the hood of my car, and broke into my house to start making my favorite dinner.

Here is what I looked like before the chemicals that’ll probably fry my brain transformation:

I look happy, but I’m hurting on the inside. Real bad.

My lips hurt real bad.

Sorry. Random Napoleon Dynamite quote that nobody remembers or understands.

I now give you the after:

And no.

It’s not black.

It may look black. Just like I look like I’m paying attention to you when all I’m really thinking about is one of those slushies… but hey! At least I don’t look almost naked like I did in this photo! Woo!!

Moral of the story is this,

Be selfish. DO SOMETHING FOR YOURSELF because as my friend Jessica puts it, “you can’t make anyone happy if you’re not happy with yourself”.

THE GREAT DEBATE I’ve obsessed over lately is what I should do with my hair. Should I go platinum? Dirty blond? Dark brown? Sassy red? Short hair? Long hair? Medium hair? Leave it, curl it, style it, throw it in a bun. . .there is just too many choices. I *almost* miss the times I didn’t have to think of these things, back in the day when I never dyed my hair, always wore a pony tail and didn’t care about the bangs that hung over my eyes. Then I got a wild hair to change all of this back in October, and I went from this:

To this:

Which was wickedly beautiful, until now six months down the road. The highlights have faded and I’m left with a Peppy La Pue skunk streak down the top of my head, with all the remaining highlights on one side and none on the other.

Fanfreakingtastic.

Last picture of my old hair, and I only posted this in case you’ve forgotten that I actually DO have teeth.

So. Now on to the real story, where I dashed into the mall, and the first place won’t do a color appointment after six. The second was run by two witchy girls that probably would’ve dyed my hair green if I would’ve went through with it. So my last, but probably best option was JC Penny’s, who had cut/styled my hair before. I lucked out, got the best stylist (Jennie is her name, and seriously, ask for her. She knows whats up.) So I trusted her with choosing the right shade of DARK BROWN.

I feel happy.

I feel cute.

I feel cocky.

And to be truthful? Even though I was shooting for a Bella Swan/Sara Evans hair color. . .it came out like Kate Beckinsale in Underworld. And I’m perfectly ok with that. I have the blue eyes, light skin, the dark hair, the obsession with fantasy, and I feel evil. Vampire AubMo, anyone?

Post note: No, I am not nakie in these pics. Even though they are modest and only show my shoulders (gasps!) I am also wearing a tube top. Which apparently doesn’t show up on head shots, imagine that.

DEAR INTERNET, I HAVE COME TO INFORM YOU that after this post, you’re way of viewing me and my life will drastically change.

Forever.

And no, Vanity Vain is not a post even related to Danity Kane (even though my name is Aubrey. The girl in the band isn’t worthy of the name).

It’s not that I like making a fool of myself, or that I want to post scary pictures just for the fun of it. Besides, Halloween was two months ago. The reason I’m posting these godawful pictures is so everyone can know the painstaking processes that us girls go to just to get the look we want. And no, it’s not pretty. This is going to be a step-by-step picture documentary of how I do my hair.

DUE TO THE UNATTRACTIVE NATURE OF THESE PICTURES, VIEWER WARNING IS ADVISED.

First picture starts off after my shower. I put a gob of gel in my hair and put it up like this:

Then I get dressed, watch some TV, eat some cereal and come back to the bathroom. I take my hair out, and flip my head completely upside down. After a few Beavis and Butthead-like head bangs, I’m ready for the blow dryer. When I’m done, here is what that little beauty does (before I’ve even tweaked it):

Someone, get that girl a hair brush and a straight jacket, STAT!

Thankfully, I’m not quite done. Now I have to spray my bangs back:

Is it just me, or do I completely look like Cruella De Vil right there? I even have the white highlight. Go Disney!

Next step is to pin hair up in the middle, add makeup, and take about fifty more pictures just to make sure it looks good:

Overall look

Closeup of the makeup

Finally, we’re at the last step. Add jewels, more hairspray, glasses, and another spray of Suave just to be sure:

I’m done, but wondering why I’m not looking directly at the camera in the last picture.

There you have it my folks. The completely unglamorous. I, AubreyMo, have posted the impossible. I’ve posted pictures of myself that were completely and utterly shocking. Now, to be fair, some shots I just can’t take by myself. Like one where my head is upside down with a ten pound blow dryer attached to it by little poky things. Or the one where I think I have to have my mouth open to apply mascara. But let this be a lesson to everyone. If your girl isn’t looking at her best, just wait!