My Handsome Mister S.

did i ever actually relay to anyone in particular just how i am convinced that my boyfriend manfriend Hung the Moon?

how sweet it was (and IS still)!

any man deserving of my considerations, reconsiderations, explanations, and, yes--even apologies summoning up a pain in self-reflection and a ghosting of grieved desperation (and there have been so, so, SO few of these males that i have chanced upon encountering) is special.

Hot Clay.

un-ornamented (and a bit ill)

i am still enjoying my brand-new, first-time-in-my-life dangerous and short real hair. i am known for wearing a choice from my unhidden. brazen collection of beautiful wigs when i am feeling rushed, or when i draw a blank during my routine styling. Meet Bob, some of you for the first time. a couple of months ago, my tresses were whacked off so short, that the ends curled under at my cheeks and didn't fall to my neck. NOW, after my regimen of multivitamins, DHEA, Doc's orders, and a more wholesome lifestyle all around, i find my real hair touching my shoulders in a longer fashion of bob. i even crafted some blonde streaks (oh, you know me) upon some small hair combs in long, flattering layers to place at the front, framing my face. the extensions are human hair and are entirely genuine-looking. i don't apologize for looking tired and ill in the photo. and i wasn't wearing any makeup (but Clayton thinks that i look especially beautiful in this way).

i'm a lucky, smiling lady. longer, grown-out bob with blonde streaks and an 8 years-older 30 years-old manfriend (who will be 31 to my 22 years in only two months) included.

that is all.