Pajammy Party

Pillow fights, secrets, s'mores and scary stories. Sleeping bag not required.


Guess what.

My hair is still black.

I thought I’d be dripping purple by now but no. My meeting started too late, the damn salon refused to wait and now I’m rhyming like an idiot. An idiot with black hair.

So instead, I ate salad, pork chops, a lot of vegetables and spent Friday night in the supermarket.

That’s how you know you’re getting old. Screw partying, let me hang out here by the dairy section.

It was enjoyable, it really was.

So the trip to the salon has been moved to tomorrow – but not at the original salon. Because if you’re bitchy, you don’t get my money. (Please, God, make the rhyming stop.)

And after the salon trip, I will dust off my gloves and start boxing again.

Purple dye and punches. I can’t wait.


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