My lovely curly blonded hair. Is gone.
Last night I lopped it off in the midst of an odd impromptu hair-buzzing party. It started with ColoradoBoy, who I met for dinner. When I saw him walking down the street, I made a startling discovery: ColoradoBoy is pear-shaped, in the sense that he is very thin from the ribcage up, and has a beautiful thin face and lovely sideburns (well, I suppose sideburns have nothing to do with pear-shapedness, but I figure a little description never killed anyone), but then directly below his ribcage he turns distinctly rounded -- it looks rather like two people have been cut in half and then joined at the middle.
Anyhow. We had a lovely time at dinner, and then went to cash my paycheck so we could get a drink. Yes, yes, a paycheck that arrived (gasp) on time and (gasp) with the proper amount on it and (gasp) I did not have to pick any locks to get to it. Then he suggested we pretend to be ghetto, something I am always excited to do, and we each bought a Colt 45 and drank them from brown paper sacks as we walked down the street. I would like to note here my discovery that Colt 45 should not be drunk from brown paper bags, or indeed, from anything at all. The aftertaste is still making me shudder.
At the bar we had a few drinks to wash the taste of the Colt away. And then ColoradoBoy brought up the topic of buzzing his hair. I, of course, was all for it, because I would get to be the one who did the buzzing, and there are few things as fun as chopping off someone's hair. So after a little debate, and a strange conversation with a few German Hispanic boys, off we went. And off his hair went -- and his head/face went from being Hot to being HHHot, which was nice.
So naturally we go back to the bar to show off his new 'do. And everyone loved it and agreed with me that keeping his sideburns intact was a good plan. And then after a few more drinks, he goes home and I go home, and then it suddenly sounds like a good idea to divest myself of my excess hair. So I bust out the clippers again and kissed my lovely golden locks adieu. And then I got to do the same to Sea, leaving one punkrock shock of hair long in the front and buzzing everything else, and he looks major badass. I do adore dramatic changes.
My penchant for dramatic change aside, I have not yet gotten used to the new shape of my head and I kind of almost want to cry when I look in a mirror, but then there is always a period of adjustment, and the last time I did this I thought it looked great, so I just need to wait for the new reality to set in and I can go back to unashamedly admiring my reflection.
Besides all that, a tiny part of me is worried that I have just shot myself in the foot -- I had almost convinced myself that my recent spate of good luck with boys has been a direct result of my magical new hair goo. Like Samson, my mystical newfound sexy, sexy strength may have just been shaved away. Perhaps I no longer have the power to keep all those plates spinning! Look out below!
Or, perhaps, the hair goo had nothing to do with it and I have sexy, sexy strength on my own, but honestly, what are the chances of THAT being true?