Rock and Rolla Ayatollah

I have this thing I like to call The Daily Susannah. It's who I see in the mirror each day. Because with my hair growing out from bald, I don't feel like myself. Sure, you'd think that a year later I would be used to it, but that's the thing: it changes every freaking day. I change every day. So one day I may catch my reflection and there is Scott Baio. A blink of an eye later and I am The Heat Miser. 

For awhile there I was rocking a mean Marv Albert.

Honestly I don't even know who Marv Albert is; he is not really on my radar. But he must be subconsciously because one day I looked in the mirror and there is was, clear as day. Why hello there Marv Albert slash self!

Many days I feel like a politician's wife until I feel guilty for being so misogynistic and remind myself that no, I am Geraldine Goddamn Ferraro, may she RIP.

Other days, when I am not so intense but a bit foppish and clever, I am Emma Thompson. Specifically Love, Actually Emma Thompson. On these days I think in a British accent. (And I do hope you read that sentence in a British accent.)

Lately I seem to vary from Ronald Miller when I let my hair go bushy...

...to David Spade if I flat iron it.

And then last night I saw my new self, and it made me want to do a little dance. Wearing tight pants.

Because you guys, this is me. Today's Susannah. Everybody's talking 'bout my tight pants...

Got my tight pants on.
Xo,
S