Utter Failures

This post wouldn't be possible without my dear, sweet husband who, since we met, has delighted in taking pictures of me while I sleep. Jeremy then rejoices in posting these pictures to Facebook. What a blessing. I look like a derp when I sleep. It's hard to explain. Let's just take a look, shall we?

Before I write this post, I want to say a few things. The first is that I change my hair because I enjoy it. I like changing things up, and hair is a fairly safe thing to change, assuming you don't fry your hair in the process. I've done that and learned my lesson. The second thing is that a lot of these pictures haven't been seen before. I am pretty self-conscious, and some of these are embarrassing to me. However, I am getting past that and feel that showing these pictures is a way of moving forward. Having said that, here is the evolution of my hair: cuts, colors, bangs, perms...the whole shebang. Be gentle! First, let's establish I was a pretty cute kid, ok? Long, blondish hair that eventually would turn brown. Add caption Through elementary, I mostly kept the style of long brownish hair with bangs. It's worth noting I had a bad cowlick that often made my bangs separate. That was annoying. Around sixth grade, I decided to try to...

A guest blog post by Sarah Munné I am more than aware of my greatest failure. My ability to morph an innocent situation into something monumentally catastrophic is uncanny. I overreact. In many cases, this overreaction is a result of my emotions taking over when encountering a situation that is outside of my comfort zone: ladybugs, blueberries, ex-boyfriends, bananas, and Barney.  That’s right – Barney the beloved, purple dinosaur. It was October 13, 1993. I was having a beautiful birthday party complete with Beauty and the Beast cake. (This was a staple at my birthday parties.) My parents had gathered all of my kindergarten friends and their families for a perfectly normal party.  But then, he came.  That purple dinosaur came into my living room escorted by a red-headed clown. And I had a meltdown.  My poor, precious parents had no idea how to handle the situation. To them, this was the best surprise they could give t...

I like naming the things I fail at. Not because I'm some kind of freak (well, perhaps I am), but because I think it's important to realize we can't do everything. And because if it's something we can improve at doing, we have to realize first that we NEED to improve. So, without further ado, here's my list of things I fail at doing:  Whistling - I cannot whistle. I know HOW to do it, but I cannot do it.  All-nighters. I used to be able to do this in high school. In college, the longest I made it was til 5 a.m. and that was only once. I need my sleep.  Catching a ball in sports. I tried. I trained. But that fast moving object flying at my head.sends me into self-preservation mode. AKA fetal position. Catching ladybugs. Actually, being around ladybugs. I have a phobia, and I can't deal with them.  Reaching above an octave on the piano. I have tiny baby hands and it took all kinds of training and stretching to get an octave.  Advanced math. I tried, honest...