Ignore this post about my hair.

So this whole vacation concept is much more stressful than anticipated. It all begins with my hair.

I need a haircut, I do. But last time I had it cut, it was cut a wee too short for my liking, and gasp, it couldn't be pulled back. And I don't know if you know me, but I don't do my hair. My hair just doesn't do. It does one of two things - it straightens nicely with a flat iron if the humidity is just right (read: middle of the fall, when the weather is cool and dry. Spring and summer? Oh Hell no. My hair is moodier than I am). Or it goes back in a pony tail. And my hair just fits back into a little pony tail now. It's small, it's messy, and it's probably unattractive, but it gets my bipolar hair out of my face. And I don't know if you know Myrtle Beach, but it's hot there. And probably humid. And my hair is going to hate its life for seven straight days, and if I can't pull it back, oh-my-God, I'm going to hate my life, too.

And here is where the dilemma lies: do I get a haircut? If I cut it, I know it's not going to fit into a pony tail, but I am literally sitting here breaking split ends off my hair. Look. I am. It needs a good trim, and it needs to be evened out. And don't get me started on the highlights that are starting to grow out. Mom. Help. What is a girl to do?

And, oh crap. I just realized how God awful girly I sound right now. Let's just pretend I never wrote this.