Forget for a sec that I never remember this woman’s children’s birthdays, or how to get to her house, or the anniversary of the date she got married in a gorgeous ceremony with black bridesmaid dresses we all honestly wore again. I’m wearing mine right now. Sequins! Forget my gross negligence re: the big things in my sister-in-law’s life, and join me in being furious that Julie Fee failed to tell me she was getting bangs.
I only found out when she sent me this photo. Julie, do we not spend every important family holiday hunched over eyeshadow tutorials and scarf tutorials? Debating skinny belts vs. wide belts vs. no belts vs. is there any leftover pie? Do “bangs” not fit in as something that requires a phone call? As a woman of faith, I know you’ll appreciate my decision to unload a dumpster of grace on this situation and forgive you, as long as I know it won’t happen again. Maybe you need some alone-time to reflect on that? I know you’re busy guiding the kids’ academic and spiritual growth, and keeping up a passionate blog that both terrifies and inspires me, but I’m thinking, you could quick go get that bottle off your counter and find yourself a corner of the house nobody else wants to occupy.
Inhale (watch the dust). Exhale. Think about when in life you should call or text your sister-in-law. If you get interrupted while you’re reflecting, you could put the kids away for a bit. Bye bye! Time to play jewelry-in-the-box.
Oh WHAT. Like we didn’t say worse than that last Christmas while we ignored all four (four?) of your kids plus Steve’s two plus mine, while we stood at the counter and checked out each other’s eyebrows and ate a Wuolette’s pear tart straight from the box. Gluten free! Or maybe that kind of thing only works when you’re with me? Maybe you should come over.
My kitchen is a wreck* so we could go in there and nobody would bug us. I have no working appliances but I do have martini-makings. We could talk about your next move, with the hair, or better yet, we could just do it. Julie! You can’t tell me you don’t love this now that you see it. How good would a hot blue afro look on your tawny skin? Tawny. Yes. See why you should call me? I think this is a scriptural thing, like an in-law thing. I’m sure it is. I believe it was Naomi who first trusted Ruth to give her a Hot Topic dye job and a home perm in her kitchen. A kitchen which would have had NO RUNNING WATER – Julie. I’m serious. Let’s act while my kitchen is rustic and my grace is in full swing and you’re on a roll pulling off your nicely arched eyebrows + knee high shoes + repentance + faith + bangs, as only you can.
*Clarification: My kitchen was “a wreck” at the time the bangs photo was received. At present, I have cabinets and appliances and they’re beautiful. It’s ok, Julie, it’s ok.
Next makeover: Dr. Julene D. Nolan doesn’t 100% have her doctorate yet. If she did she might know that getting dressed while driving in the dark is not, like, advisable.
Whither thou goest in this fashion adventure, Ann, I will go.
I’m so sorry to everyone that I’m now going to have to order the “Whither Thou Goest” sheet music vocal trio with harp. Sorry, Amy, Julie. Done.