I met with him today.
He looked at my chart, looked at me, looked back at my chart, and then said, 'Which one are you?'
What he wanted to know was my birth order. "I'm the third," I said.
He turned to his nurse and said, "Nurse, meet Noelle, of the Ed and Val triplets."
I smiled and said to the nurse, "Like that's supposed to mean something to you."
"It does," she said. "Your family is legendary here."
What do you know...I'm famous.
By default because my mom is my mom.
I'll take it.
Remember how Kate was going to do something magical with my hair?
Trust me, she did.
It was so magical that when I got home Jason took one look at me and said, "You are hot. No, you're smokin'."
It was so magical that when my 8 year old niece saw me she squealed and said, "I love your hair!"
But here's the deal...I can't post a picture.
Kate told me that unless I could make it look as good as she did, I was not allowed to post pictures.
Bad advertising or something.
I tried Kate. Believe me I tried.
I went out and bought a round brush, exactly like the one Kate showed me.
I used the spray she told me was mandatory before flat-ironing.
I did exactly what she told me to: 70% dry and then use the round brush.
I. Can. Not. Use. A. Round. Brush.
To. Save. My. Life.
I'm going to get round brush lessons from my sister.
Maybe that will help.
One of these days, when I think Kate might not read my blog that day, I'll post a picture.
Or as soon as I get over the fact that I do not like getting my picture taken.
...whichever comes first.
Jason informed me last night that whip cream from a can is evidence that there is a God.
So...in case you were wondering...
Oh fine...here's a picture...or three.
You can thank Baby Sister for being the photographer.
This is my 'I don't want my picture taken' look.
This is my plug for hand sanitizer...
...and a small glimpse of my baby bump...
And this is the 'oh for the love...I give up...' picture.
Kate may never let me back into her salon.
That's enough for one day...
Way more than enough...