Sometimes it feels as if this has been my life forever. Sometimes it feels like there has always been a parade of very large four legged creatures running through my life. Sometimes it feels like this desire to save one or two or five or ten has always been there. Sometimes water buckets, hay in my bra, and pitch forks seem more natural then putting on mascara.
There was a time, not too horribly long ago, when putting on mascara could be done without looking, while driving down I5. There was a time, not too horribly long ago, when how I looked on the outside meant the world to me. There was a time, not too horribly long ago, when my grey hair was horrifying.
Tonight I went with Cathy over to Teresa's house for a girls night/hair cutting session. I have done little more then toss my wet hair into a pony tail or a bun since I left Avaland. It will be one year, to the day, in four days. It has not been cut. It has not been touched by a professional. It's had the benefit of perhaps three days where I attempted to wear it down; one day I made it till about noon, one day till nearly four and the third, I barely made ten am.
I have missed the feel of having my hair fussed with professionally. I think tonight I not only found a hair dresser I also found that a bit of balance would be a good thing to think about. I enjoy the girly stuff, I always have. I love my hair, truth be told. I have, of late, found it to be a right pain in the ass. I have neglected it under the guise of "growing it out". This is not to say I didn't want to grow it out, it is to say that a more accurate explanation of why pony tails and no fussing became so attractive is cause it's a pain in my ass. It takes forever to dry, it never does exactly what I want, I am pretty flippin' convinced it'd look way better on someone else's head and frankly I get sick of fucking with it!
In my defense the last 361 days have been filled with horse shit, very little company, and a lot of time spent thinking about what I looked like on the inside.
Balance, I suspect, is in order :-)
There was a time, not too horribly long ago, when putting on mascara could be done without looking, while driving down I5. There was a time, not too horribly long ago, when how I looked on the outside meant the world to me. There was a time, not too horribly long ago, when my grey hair was horrifying.
Tonight I went with Cathy over to Teresa's house for a girls night/hair cutting session. I have done little more then toss my wet hair into a pony tail or a bun since I left Avaland. It will be one year, to the day, in four days. It has not been cut. It has not been touched by a professional. It's had the benefit of perhaps three days where I attempted to wear it down; one day I made it till about noon, one day till nearly four and the third, I barely made ten am.
I have missed the feel of having my hair fussed with professionally. I think tonight I not only found a hair dresser I also found that a bit of balance would be a good thing to think about. I enjoy the girly stuff, I always have. I love my hair, truth be told. I have, of late, found it to be a right pain in the ass. I have neglected it under the guise of "growing it out". This is not to say I didn't want to grow it out, it is to say that a more accurate explanation of why pony tails and no fussing became so attractive is cause it's a pain in my ass. It takes forever to dry, it never does exactly what I want, I am pretty flippin' convinced it'd look way better on someone else's head and frankly I get sick of fucking with it!
In my defense the last 361 days have been filled with horse shit, very little company, and a lot of time spent thinking about what I looked like on the inside.
Balance, I suspect, is in order :-)
