It came, it went. The 41st birthday, that is, which was friday. If only the crevases on my forehead would do the same. But a-wishin' and a-hopin' won't make it so. Thus, the options: get bangs. again. or:
Of course I did my due diligence, and had a consult with Mme CKK. "Do it."
But I'm plainly terrified. Dearies, tell me what to do! Here's what I really, truly look like, a ripe 41-year old, from every angle:
And while i ain't makin' excuses, yes, I'm exhausted.