Hair. It says a lot about a person.

Ok, I know  I pick on Jessica Simpson A LOT. It's not very nice, and I am sure she is probably a nice person. Though she strikes me as the friend who always asks you if they look fat and sometimes they actually DO look fat. You so badly want to say "you don't look fat, you gained 20lbs, now you may or may not be technically fat but you are CERTAINLY fatter than you were." And instead you are like "No, fat? No way, you are beautiful." You keep having to tell them this over, and over, and over inside you are screaming because you know that you are perpetuating a lie. The lie that your friend is clearly living because she just jammed her hefty ass into a dress she wore your freshman year of college, and has since given birth (multiple times). She is asking you this and it's really fucked up because you are fatter than she is.

Just because you can put some body butter on and shimmy your ass into something, doesn't mean it fits. Seriously, get some cable watch a little "What Not To Wear." 

I am fat right now. I do the right thing, I wear the hoody of shame and shuffle my ass to the gym on a regular basis. I will not be asking any one if I'm fat, the answer is yes. Give me a couple of months. 

Back to this picture though. Jessica, this is the hairdo that belongs on someone who smokes a pack a day and sucks thoughtfully on celery sprinkled in cocaine. A runway model. You can't pull off hair and make-up like that unless you are starving. But, I get it, you keep having to wear and do stupid shit to stay relevant. Well played.

This new year is bringing all kinds of new hair look at this:

Word on the street is that she is knocked up. The loose fitting dress, the drastic hair. Hmmm... It makes sense. I think the second you pee on a stick you should call up your hair dresser and say, NO MATTER what I do, please do not allow me to make any drastic changes to my hair for the next year. I will not be thinking with a clear head. For some reason whenever I get pregnant my first response is to hack off or die my hair, I always regret it. The thought process is so muddled. 

I learned this the hard way. I always wanted to know what I looked like as a brunette. When I was pregnant with my second child I talked my self into getting brown hair. Brown hair probably is never going to look good on me, but brown hair on a swollen pale version of me is almost too hideous to even speak of. EVERY single pregnant picture from that era has been destroyed. Along with the postpartum red hair debacle of 2001, followed up with the most recent short hair cut, also bad. Very bad.

 Moral of the story: If you put on a few pounds or have a bun in the oven, leave your hair out of it. You'll thank me later.