Not fo' pussies, yo!

Of the top 9 Google search terms that direct traffic to this blog 6 are about Princess Leia. One is about Hugh Laurie.
How about them apples?

I'm exhausted today. I don't know why, really. After Friday's class I felt okay. And then Saturday my husband and I went out picking up trash along the river for a little while, which involves walking and hiking up and down inclines. But I didn't feel too bad after that, either. Sunday I managed to not get any sleep (I could blame the fact that we're adjusting my meds again, I could blame the pain that started up in my knee, but really it is because I was on a Pinterest tear. Oh joy! A place to pin all my favorite pictures of shoes and ballerinas! It's like it was made just for me! Sigh.) so I felt kind of awful all day yesterday. And there was this horrible deep ache in my right knee. Worse than usual. But I spent some time giving myself a deep massage in the area that hurt the worst (let me tell you, it's not a soothing massage. It's like finding a spot that hurts and then shoving on it so hard and for so long that you need to go take a lie down. Remarkably, however, it helps.) so I haven't been as bad today.
But class kicked me to the curb. Fondu usually kills me, but this was a remarkably long stretch of fondues. Oh man. KILLER.
And then there were 48 changements. I tried to do them low and as gently as possible.
But Jesus. It's like she's trying to kill us.
Ballet is NOT for pussies.

Ballet Buns Are Go

So I am letting my hair grow out.
Ugh. I have, for the past 9 years or so, gone in every five months and had my hair cut and layered and worked to within an inch of it's life so that I could sport short, wavy, pixie hair. It looks good on me. And it takes no time at all to care for or style. Like, wake up, muss it around with your fingers, and off you go. Who needs a hair brush? But, ahem, I am broke. So $60 hair appointments are not even remotely in my budget. My budget is ballet and health insurance right now. Oh, and taking my aging cats to the vet. Sorry Anita, hairstylist that I love, you are not on my books right now.
So, out it goes. And right now it's at an annoying in-between phase where I have to bundle up the back of it with a clip for class, but still have to wear a headband to keep the layers around my face out of my eyes. Sooner or later it's going to have to go in to some sort of wannabe ballerina bun. Most of the gals in class are sporting high ponytails but yucka. I mean on me, it's a bad look. My face is sort of sticky-outy in the nose area if you catch my drift. So I am going to have to relearn how to keep it out of the way.
When I first took ballet I had looooooong hair and every single time I would braid it to look, well, like this actually:

my style icon: Princess Leia on Hoth

I had it DOWN, man. I could whip that thing together in five minutes. Two hair elastics, half a dozen bobby pins, and I was GOOD to GO. But... I am so very lazy now. So. Very. Very. Lazy. I hate having long hair these days and I'm only doing it grudgingly with the intention of selling that shiznit for some serious bread in a couple of years. Until then, I suffer in hair kerchiefs every night and my husband whines about not being able to find me under all the hair. MEH.