I often wonder how my sister and I made it through our childhood years unharmed by my mother's roughness. Roughness? Spacey-ness? (<-- Yes, that's a word!) Everything this lady does is so rough and NON-delicate. She's like a bull in a china shop, people!
My mama dyes her hair on her own most days. Occasionally, I assist her. The majority of the time, she dyes her hair some shade of brown. However, if for some reason she ever dyed her hair red, you would think her bathroom was a crime scene! It boggles my mind how she makes such a mess. She gets dye on the wall, down the cabinets, all over the floor, and—most importantly—all over herself! Now I'm not talking about the random drop of dye that sneaks its way down your forehead. No. I'm talking about it looks like she became confused mid-dye, and tried to dye her face—not her hair. Think I'm exaggerating??? Fine. I'll prove it.
I would just like to point out the dye that has somehow made its way underneath her chin. Oh! And also, to that "pool" of dye behind her ear. And lastly, let me just say that this was not a one-time thing. No, my friends. This is every time. This is her life. I'll just give you a moment to soak that in…
