On Friday, I had my doctor's appointment, where I got put on Allegra (whee) and found out that all my blood test results showed that I was in the pink of condition. My cholesterol is (and I quote) "better than perfect." I don't know how that comes about, but hey, my thyroid works, I'm not diabetic yet, and pass me the bacon!

I also got sent off to a dermatologist, who diagnosed that I have nothing else wrong with me and my head must have just gone into some kind of shock from the pneumonia. Which is what I figured, really. He said I could try Rogaine if I felt like I really needed to do something, but it really wouldn't do much, and using Nioxin shampoos would do about the same thing, and at any rate my hair should be growing back in six months anyway, so if I do nothing, no big whoop. And I got cleared to color and/or perm my hair, since "if it's gonna fall out, nothing's going to stop it, so you might as well do what you want."

After that, much to my surprise (since she'd said the other day that only morons would go shopping the day after Thanksgiving- uh-HUH), we spent the ENTIRE day shopping. Got a Palm-esque device with novels for Dad, got Palms for Laurie and Ron, had a great deal of fun at Cost Plus buying random items, got a shitload of movies for people, did some clothes shopping... etc., etc. I have lost track of all the places that we went to. Mom insisted that I buy all of her and Dad's presents this weekend so I wouldn't have to shop alone, after work, in the dark, where I can get raped. Grrrrr.

We had a fun time, as we always do when we shop. It's our good bonding time.

Saturday, however, it all went to hell. I think the longest I can stay with my parents is for a weekend before it goes insane. And Saturday morning, it went INSANE.

Mom started in on me about my hair. She REALLY wanted to make SURE that I knew how REALLY, REALLY BAD my hair looks now, because it concerns her SO MUCH. The color sucks, the condition of my hair sucks, it looks so thin, I really should cut it, blah blah blah. She called the advice nurse at Kaiser and two different beauty supply stores to ask them about what to do with my head. I screamed at her to stop bugging me about it, and she wouldn't. She said she was going to keep bugging me about this the entire time I was home, then got all upset and disbelieving when I said stuff like this is why I didn't want to come home. Oh yeah, and she said she thought why I didn't come home was that I had AIDS and wasn't telling her about it. Yes, really. Dave was ready to kill her for saying that. "Gee, thanks, and where does she think you got AIDS from?"

After that, then Dad threw a screaming, crying hissy fit because someone moved a paper on his desk. I had to leave the house to not hear the screaming any more, and when I tried to call Dave to rant, Mom started yelling for me. I can't get away when I'm there.

The day ended better than it started- Mom bought me some hair dye and an absolute shitload of clothes for Christmas presents- but oh, the stress.

It was almost funny when she was going on about how "if" this marriage thing would happen (and she won't use the m-word), Dave should meet the relatives, but he's going to have to come off better about it. Sigh.

As for Sunday, I got my hair dyed (blonder-reddish, I guess?), Ron came over to pick up his Palms, and finally, I got to go home. I was soooo tired of getting the fifth degree about how truly bad my hair looks and how my teeth don't look so bad as she thought, but she still can't help but bitch me out about it, blah blah blah. Not to mention how tired I was of hearing how Mom REALLY thinks a marriage can't work if the man doesn't support the woman, and yes, that stereotype is still utterly true in her eyes, just look at Ken's daughter's first marriage, blah blah shootmenowcakes.

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