Okay, I am on 100 mg/three times a day of Lyrica, and I have found that--as it warns on the drug info--it makes you high. So on the morning of my mother's birthday lunch, I decided I needed a haircut. I couldn't even explain why I would think that. But I went to the mall and got a haircut. I told the girl I wanted a cut that I could wear my hair straight or curly (I am naturally curly), and also that I could wear in a ponytail. And she thought my hair is so thick and it would be better in layers. Now here is where the non-high me would've screamed "WARNING! WARNING!" I have spent 10 years of my life growing out layers and getting a one-length bob.
But the Lyrica-high me thought that was a great idea, and that joining in the conversation of the lady in the neighboring chair, who was complaining about the new speed bumps in her area, was a great idea. And talking the ear off the hairdresser was a great idea.
Meanwhile the clock is ticking and I start to realize I'm going to be late for my mother's birthday lunch. And as the lady keeps cutting and cutting, I realize I'm going to be VERY late for my mother's birthday lunch.
So when she was done, I looked hideous. You know how frizzy and frazzed out curls look when you comb them. But I was so late, I had no time to do anything about it, except rush home, grab the family, and get to the restaurant. I felt like the world's biggest jerk, because I was 45 minutes late for my mother's birthday celebration. AND, my hair looks terrible.
It looks terrible straight (the layers are completely obvious because my hair is too thick and coarse to "blend" them). It looks terrible curly. And it is too short to wear in a ponytail. ACK! Now I have to wait another 10 years to grow it back to the shoulder length bob that I had and liked pretty well.
Lesson: do not make decisions when on a Lyrica high!
But the Lyrica-high me thought that was a great idea, and that joining in the conversation of the lady in the neighboring chair, who was complaining about the new speed bumps in her area, was a great idea. And talking the ear off the hairdresser was a great idea.
Meanwhile the clock is ticking and I start to realize I'm going to be late for my mother's birthday lunch. And as the lady keeps cutting and cutting, I realize I'm going to be VERY late for my mother's birthday lunch.
So when she was done, I looked hideous. You know how frizzy and frazzed out curls look when you comb them. But I was so late, I had no time to do anything about it, except rush home, grab the family, and get to the restaurant. I felt like the world's biggest jerk, because I was 45 minutes late for my mother's birthday celebration. AND, my hair looks terrible.
It looks terrible straight (the layers are completely obvious because my hair is too thick and coarse to "blend" them). It looks terrible curly. And it is too short to wear in a ponytail. ACK! Now I have to wait another 10 years to grow it back to the shoulder length bob that I had and liked pretty well.
Lesson: do not make decisions when on a Lyrica high!
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