Erma Bombeck titled one of her books, When You Look Like Your Passport Photo, It's Time to Go Home. I see her point, but at this point in my life, I think that when you look like your passport photo, it's time to leave home. The young girl at Walgreen's is my no means a professional photographer, but I'm not very pleased with my photo:
In spite of trying to smile and look great for this photo that will identify me to foreign officials for the next ten years, I look unnatural. I look a bit frazzled. I probably was/am frazzled. But May is coming. It's six months away, but it's coming.
I do like my hair, and this is where I will ask for your help (as well as the help of everyone clicking over from Rocks in My Dryer backwards Works for Me Wednesday). I got it cut a few weeks ago. I like the cut. I asked for more layers, and I actually would like a few more. I don't want advice on the cut, but on color. I've never ever colored my hair, but now that I'm