Tag Archives: Hair

I just want to know that I am not alone. Bendy Hair Follicles?


Fess up.  Who has them?  Who even knows what I’m talking about?


Bendy Hair Follicles or BHF as I call them around here.  When your stupid hair grows out one way, and then gets forced into another direction and then it hurts like a mofo.  Yeah, you know what I’m talking about!  Don’t you?

I want to know that BHF is a real thing, and it is not just me.  My husband gives me a look like he thinks I am bat shit crazy whenever I mention it.  But he just doesn’t KNOW.  He has no hair.

I’ll tell you a little secret about hair. Hair is stubborn and hair doesn’t like being told what to do or where to go.


These are the people that are likely to be inflicted by this nasty reality:

  1. Curly haired bitches.  I think these girls have it the worst.  Their crap curly hair grows out of their head in all different directions and they generally have very strong evil follicles that resist hairbrushes best efforts to put them back into place.  What happens is this – unless the bitch in question lets her wild tresses go nuts, she has to put it up in some fashion.  There is a 100% chance that whatever hairstyle is chosen, there will be follicles bent the wrong way.  If the poor bitch has kids, especially babies who like to grab hair, wild and woolly hair is just not an option, therefore, she MUST tie it back and subsequently subject herself to the pain of the bendy follicle.
  2. Ballerinas.  These girls wear their hair in buns – right up on top of their heads.  Really tight buns – smothered in hairspray so the hair has no chance of escaping the anti-gravity hold.  This is all well and good while dancing on stage.  The girl looks as cute as a button, but she has no idea what is about to happen.  After her performance and the audience has all gone home, she has to take her hair out.  There is no avoiding it.  Once the 1000 bobby pins come out, her follicles are going to scream as they are allowed to fall back to their natural position.  Agony.
  3. Hippies.  Sometimes, you can get BHF is other places too.  Like your legs if your all hippie like or just don’t shave much.  This usually happens when you wear leggings or stockings.  Pregnant women wear leggings a lot and they also don’t get to shave much because they just can’t.  When you pull your leggings on, your spindly leg hairs are pulled upwards and trapped there.  That is of course until you take your leggings off later.  And then BAM – Bendy Leg Hair Follicles.
  4. Ferals.  Bendy Hair Follicles get worse as your hair gets dirtier.  If for some reason you don’t get to wash your hair very much, like you are homeless or have babies, there is a good chance that your follicles are getting bendier and bendier.  Especially as you keep on pulling your hair back everyday to avoid little hands getting up into your knots and pulling on them.  Also, as your hair gets more gross, you tend to resort to the old bun or shove it under a hat to hide the fact that you haven’t brushed your hair or showered in a month.  Not good options for the BHF sufferer. It’s just a vicious circle.  Sadly, the only way to cure BHF is to wash your hair.  Easier said than done.


I am horrified to say that I fall under all of these categories (well, except ballerina.  I haven’t done ballet for a long time, but I REMEMBER!).  And my hair gets curlier and bendier after each baby!  Forgot to mention – going to bed with wet hair is also a big no-no for the person with BHF as your head on a pillow is bound to push your wet follicles into unnatural positions and dry there.  Problem is, I generally shower at night after babies are asleep, but I don’t want to wash my hair then or it would be worse in the morning!  (not to mention that curly haired bitches SHOULD NEVER go to bed with wet hair or they wake with the afro from hell)  Sometimes my head hurts so bad that I pounce on D as soon as he gets out of bed in the morning and beg him to take the babies so I can wash my goddammotherfuckingbendyhairfollicles before I chop my head off, stomp on it and throw it in a fire.

I looked and looked for a curly haired bitch photo of myself but there just aren't any because I ALAWYS pull it back - thus making my BHF worse!

I looked and looked for a curly haired bitch photo of myself but there just aren’t any because I ALWAYS pull it back – thus making my BHF worse!

Is this normal?

Do YOU have BHF?

I need help dressing myself.


DAVE, if you are reading this STOP NOW!  This one is NOT for you!  It’s about my birthday dress (nooooo, not my birthday suit – that’s for later…) so shut down my blog now or you’ll ruin the surprise and consequently my birthday, and all other birthdays from now until forever!


Now that is out of the way, let’s get down to business. Firstly, it is obvious that I have not been on the blog for a few weeks.  There is a reason, but I am not going to tell you.  Yet.  Suck it up, bitches, nothing like a little suspense to keep things alive.


Things that have been exciting in my life:

1.  T did a shit in the bath AGAIN!

Yes. That really is T’s poo.


2.  We have been approved to move into a new rental property next week.  Not looking forward to all the packing and moving, especially with a needy 9 month old under foot, but am looking forward to lounging by the sparkling blue pool all summer long!  Will take lots of jealousy pics next week when we get the keys.  Here’s hoping I won’t be deprived of internet for too long during the changeover.  Internet is like oxygen to us peeps.


3.  I failed at the 20 day Challenge.  My house is no more clean or organised than it was before.  Just call me The Failure From Australia.  I did manage to finally clean my kitchen.  Kinda took over a week to get to the bottom of it.

Sort of went like this –

Clean 2 cupboards – T cries – clean top of microwave – T cries – clean half a window – T cries – nap time (T and me) – can’t be arsed doing any more for a bit – clean one more cupboard – T cries.  You get the picture.  Continue each and every day with all the other household bullshit in between.  Finally though, I did get to the end.

Remember the before photo?

And now for the AFTER. Notice the cat bowls? No we do not have a new fur baby, just were minding a friends kitty for a few days.

See him? He was helping.


In all honesty, I have managed to do a little bit of the challenge tasks here and there and am loving the binder I made from all of the Organised Housewife’s printables.  I SWEAR I am going to try and be a better housewife than I currently am in the new house.  SWEAR it.  Whenever a room gets a little messy, I can just say, ‘what does the OH tell me I need to do to get this room ultra clean and organised?  Let me just flip to the right page in the binder’, and hey presto!  A detailed to-do-list perfectly laid out to help the procrastinator in me accomplish any task I set out to achieve.


So it is my birthday tomorrow.  35.  Fuck.  Half way to 70.


D is taking me out somewhere spesh for dinner and it is a surprise.  It’s apparently romantic with super yummy food, that you actually order from a MENU and they bring it to your TABLE and shit like that!  Not a buffet in sight!  D says I have to use cutlery.  Must be fancy 😉  We haven’t been out on a date since forever, and with no kids!  can you tell I am just a tad excited?

I was even allowed to go and buy a new dress.  Here lies my problem.  I need your help on how to accessorise said dress.  I have 2 options.  I can either dress it up with heels or try to dress it down with flats.  I have silver accessories or should I wear none?  Help me decide how to wear it.  Please note that I’m not wearing a bra in these photos so the boobs are a bit saggy and will be held up by a perky strapless tomorrow night.  Also image me with a new haircut and colour which I am treating myself to tomorrow.  Also imagine freshly manicured fingers and toes.  I know, I’m getting back my mojo!!


Option 1 – with flats












That frontal makes me look incredibly frumpy!  I’m wearing the silver bangles and earrings (which you can’t see) with this option.


Option 2 – with heels.













Not sure if it would be a bit too much to wear the bangles and earrings with this option.  I’m not really a fan of the dipping hemline look, but I am a fan of this dress.  I even thought of cutting the back bit off, but then I thought I would probably stuff it, so common sense prevailed and the hem remains intact.


Right peeps I need opinions.  What do you love, what do you hate?  Be brutally honest if you like.  I can take it.  Do you have any other ideas for accessories?  Bear in mind that cornflower blue is not the easiest colour to match.  Remember, time is of the essence.  The big day is tomorrow.  Help me look beautiful on my 35th birthday.  This hopeless anti-glamour needs YOU!  Help me make my husband hot for his wife 😉


Totes promise to take a photo with the final outfit all dolled up tomorrow night.  I’ll even put my face in it.  Maybe, D’s face too!

Mojo? Is that you?


Just in case you missed it, I recently posted about my missing mojo.  I haven’t seen it for a while, I suspect I left it somewhere between Pregnancy Lane, Caesarean Street and Time Poor Mummy Terrace.  If you want to read about my man toe or bastard hair, you may do so here.


I’ve been in ‘find my mojo’ mode for about a week.  I bought 2 packs of hair die – one is not enough for my fat wog hair, and I also bought some wax strips for Leg Plantation Forest.

I actually waxed my legs a few days ago but did a pretty shithouse job of it so I had until tonight categorised it as a ‘work in progress’.  You know how people tell you that you shouldn’t get waxed when you have your period because you are more ‘sensitive’?  Well, they weren’t bloody (pun intended) kidding!  Holy shit balls!  I’ve waxed for many, many years but in all that time have not done it at that special time of the month.  I was not prepared for the world of pain I experienced when I pulled the first wax strip back.  I do not mince my words, it hurt like a mother fucker.  Worst part was I then KNEW how much the subsequent strips were going to hurt and the anticipation of the rip was excruciating.  I had to mentally prepare myself for each one, and because I had little T propped up on the bed watching his dear old mum torture herself, I couldn’t let on I was in agony.  ‘Oh dear me Theo,’ says Mum with a tormented smile on her face, ‘that sure does smart.’

Regardless of the physical suffering I endured during the waxing debacle, I still began to feel like a new woman.  Shit, I could wear a SKIRT, and my man toe had turned into a lady toe!  That night, while T was in the bath I painted my toes Candy Pink.  It was an improvement on the previous state of my feet but I’m not really a candy pink kind of girl, so I took it off.  It didn’t look right.

Today I used the ‘supposed to be painless, but totally painful’ epilady to get rid of the rouge left over hairs that I missed with the wax strips.  Now I have sexy smooth, ready to be felt legs.  I repainted my toenails Porn Star Red – totally me.  Not that I am a porn star or anything, I just prefer the bright stuff.

Sexy Toes


So D took T out this afternoon for a couple of hours so I took the opportunity to chuck in the hair dye that has been sitting on my bathroom bench for a week.  Burgundy apparently.  Turns out, if you don’t mind getting purple (or whatever colour you are using) all over your face, ears, neck, arms and bathroom sink/benchtops/floor, colouring your own hair isn’t that hard after all!  My hair is now not only greyless, but shiny and beautiful.  I even went the extra mile and ran the GHD through it.

Don’t mind the white Ahh Bra. Damn those things are comfy!


So voila!  Mojo, I think I have found you.  I am feeling a bit better about myself anyway.  The only area I have not tended to is the lady garden.  I would rather stick a hot iron up my arse than attempt to wax that myself.  Some things are best left to a professional.  And when I say professional, I really mean a hot lesbian.  Personally I couldn’t care less who waxes my nether regions, as long as they are gentle, but I always tell D she was a hot lesbian.  He likes to pretend.


I feel all smooth and glossy.  I have a feeling someone is going to get lucky tonight.  And it better be me!  (D are you reading this?  Come to bed.)

Lost my mojo. How can I reclaim my hotness?


This is me from 2004.  D and I met online, back in the day when online dating was embarrassing and giggled about.  This is the photo that reeled him in.  2004 me would be horrified if she saw 2012 me.

Don’t look at the shoes. They were ugly even back then.

That was only 8 years ago.  What the flippety jibbets has happened to me?  Yeah, I know I have recently grown a human and had him cut out of my belly, but my feelings of grossness go beyond a stretched uterus.  I used to frequent the gym several times a week and now my idea of exercise is walking down the driveway to check the mail and then walking back up again.  I guess that would explain the loss of my guns and the gain of my tuck-shop lady arms.

I feel yucky all over and I need a plan.  I want to scrape myself off the back end of a monkey’s arse and feel pretty again.  How the hell can I make myself over when money’s too tight to mention?

I haven’t had my hair done since before T was born.  My hair is almost grey with a little bit of brown (slight exaggeration) and so dry and in desperate need of a cut.  I have finally stopped shedding like a Siberian husky in Outback Australia after pregnancy and am left with nothing but shit frizz.

Oh the shame.

So, so much shame.

I haven’t coloured my own hair since K was a baby.  We are on one salary so going to the salon is out of the question.  Back in the day, I didn’t have any greys so it was no biggy.  I’d just whack in a semi, and if I didn’t like the colour I’d change it next time.  Now I need to cover these bad boys up and I’m scared to death of stuffing it.  What’s a girl to do?  I can’t do much about the cut but would a colour rejuvenate me just enough to get by?

Major freaking, hell, shit crisis.  I found a grey hair in my eyebrow.  WTF?  Is it not bad enough that I am half grey downstairs, now I am going grey on my face?

No that is not my eye. If it were, I would sing a song of joy for the beautifulness. The picture is merely a tribute to my asshole-grey-eyebrow-hair.

Another thing.  I don’t shave.  I haven’t shaved since I was about 20.  I know what you’re thinking, but no, I don’t have armpit hair so long you can plait it and then wrap it around my waist and use it as a belt.  I wax.  I wax my legs, eyebrows and lady bits.  I can use an epilady on my underarms because it’s quick and easy.  I haven’t had a wax in months.  It is getting pretty freaking scary.  All I can say is thank gawd it’s winter, but mustn’t be fun for my poor husband to snuggle up to Beast Lady in bed.  I have bought some home wax strips and am going to attempt operation ‘wax thine own legs’.  Anything has got to be better than growing my own coat of fur for the winter months.  Here is a picture of my man toe.  That will give you an idea of what my legs must look like, but I am too embarrassed to actually photograph those. Let your imagination run wild, I guarantee the reality will be far, far worse.

Sexy. Yes, those are my ‘Punchy Uggies’.

I feel so blah.  And to make matters worse, it feels like the Wicked Witch is about to drop her bloody bomb around Vag Town.  Does it get any worse?

People in Blog Land, please feel free to give me any suggestions on how to get my mojo back.  I’m lost and scared and can’t find my way home.  And I need some chocolate.