There's a tear in ma beer.....

Mama's been lookin' rough lately, a hot mess indeed. My Hawaiian tan is ancient history and I have Franken-fingers because a few of my gel nails flipped off. Classy.
 Last week I decided to try a new hair salon since I was desperately in need of some highlights and a cut.  So my bff tried this new 'stylist' a few days before me and her hair turned out fabulous. Her colour was great and the price was right, so off I went to get my scary-bad roots taken care of.
Two and half hours later Mama's hair was done. DONE WRONG. My honey brown J-Lo inspired highlights are actually full-on orange. And not orange in a Anne of Green Gables cute and spunky kind of way. I have no brown low-lights and "blonde" highlights that are so brassy-bad that even Lindsey Lohan would cringe. That girl has got some eff'n awful hair. And now so do I.

Isn't it interesting how quickly you can go from feeling pretty stinkin' cute to just plain stinky.  I could have gone back to the salon and demand that the amateur stylist fix my orange mess hair but I just don't have the time to sit in the damn chair for another 2 1/2 hours. Could this be any more frustrating?

{mmmkay, so it's not this bad. But close.}

Solution to this crappy-ness: the Vietnamese ladies are gonna hook Mama up tomorrow with a fresh nail fill....and I've decided to ride out this heinous hair colour and dodge cameras/social events until next month when I go back to my regular 'stylist'.
Have you ever felt pretty much hideous due to unforeseen beauty mishaps?!



NOT