Of course I have a thing with my hair.
I did get my yearly haircut but it was one of those things where I'm like just put it on your to do list and make the call. I force myself to do a lot of things that way. So I did and it's done. I made up my mind to let Sharon do what she thought best with the statement, I need a style. Since I quit work, it's not that important, I just let it grow. I was a head of hair I just piled on top of my head with a clip. And it had gotten so long the excess was starting to hit me in places I wasn't use to. Gardeners are always aware there may be a bug on you. The hair was freaking me out.
I am not good with my hair. I have no talent in styling it. It's fine and stringy according to my mother. There's my mother's voice everytime I look at my hair. She hates it long and voices her opinion whenever I have it down. As a kid she always cut my hair into bobs. Hated it. Always felt like I had a helmet on my head.
And then there's the preacher voice, women shall not shorn their hair. At the end of the long list of sins I have committed, it's going to end with "and you cut your hair".
And I'm blonde with blue eyes. The butt of every blonde joke out there that says, honey you're stupid. You know, pat me on the head and don't take anything I say seriously. Apologize to every man out there you didn't get the big tits to go along with that look.
You get way too much attention from men when you're blonde. Then you get your mother telling you you're not a good enough blonde, it's dishwater color. Other women accusing you of highlighting it or asking you what color you used to dyed it. You know, could you leave my head alone?
Anyway, it's done. I was kind of afraid she would cut off all the blonde and I would finally be the grey you are supposed to be when you're old. Sharon says you look at the roots to see your true hair color. You're looking at my true hair color. I haven't did any of that stuff to my hair color in years. All of that is me, hard work in the sun, sun kissed. So I didn't tell anybody I was getting a hair cut. There's going to be comments, always is. I didn't want mom saying, cut it short. She's going to call it stringy, long hair once she sees it. It's too short to throw up on my head and hide. I've been around long enough to know what a head of blonde hair brings out in other people. But it kind of looks like helmet hair, just longer to me. Oh well, it's a style. I'm still blonde, guess that means I'm not that old yet.
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