I got my hair cut yesterday.
Maybe for many of you that isn’t blog post worthy, but my hairdresser, Janne, is the best out there. For reals, ya’ll. If you’re in the Brownsburg area, you need to look her up. Heck, even if you aren’t. look her up. I live in Carmel and I make the drive to see her. She’s that good. The scalp massages alone are worth the drive. The amazing cuts, colors, and chats are all just bonus.
Never mind the fact she pointed out my first grey hair the last time I was there.
I still say it was just very blonde.
And no one else has admitted to seeing it so I think she was just seeing things that day.
It’s OK, Janne, I forgive you.
Yesterday’s trip was slightly on the depressing side, however. While discussing what to do with my hair (I’m in the midst of the re-growth phase after donating my hair last year) we both noticed that it’s looking a little thin in front.
I can’t be losing my hair! I’m the one with the thick hair! The one you have to book extra time for because it takes so long to blow dry! I’m only 30 years old and I’m a GIRL!
Wait. Maybe it’s due to that damn medication I was taking. The one that caused all those other problems I was having. You know, the weight gain, the dry mouth, the high blood pressure, the palpitations, the this, the that, the other thing.
For the first time in my life, I couldn’t get out of that chair fast enough to call the hospital to see if my old migraine medication caused hair loss.
Sure enough, one of the most common dermatologic side effects?
Damn you, nortriptyline.