I was injured by porn.

No, I wasn't injured in porn. I was injured by porn.

So I have a new haircut. This is my favorite topic of conversation lately. It's the biggest change I've made in my life since I had kids.

I really liked it at first. Okay, for all the girls out there, I have really thick, straight hair. I decided long ago to just go with it. Screw the perms and curlers. But it's been one length, long, and straight for a long time. (Which is best for my daily ponytail.)

I decided I wanted something sexy and kicky. CB (who has sexy and kicky hair) suggested her stylist. She cut in long layers and angled it along my face. She did the whole, girly, scrunch-blow dry-curling iron thing. And viola! Sexy, kicky hair.

For a day. Then I had to do it myself. As my husband said, "Well, Honey. It's just really flat."

So, I put it in a ponytail to head to the gym. And I discover that I have one renegade chunk of hair that used to be bangs, but now just falls right into my right eye. It's a mutant chunk-o-hair. It must be severed.

I climb up on the toilet to reach the top shelf of the cabinet in search of scissors. I pull out the box that has my husband's hair cutting kit...

And I'm bonked in the face with a porno mag.

OH! So that's where he does it.

*****

Note to my husband: I love you. I really, really love you. I am the mother of your children. Come on. You know it was funny. Did I mention that I love you?