Well, yesterday way the best day ever! I understand that sarcasm doesn't translate well via blog but I can't help myself. I'm in a somewhat better mood today, still sad but I guess I've gone through it so many times that in a way I've become desensitized. The first time was devastating the next a little less so, not that it's ever even close to numb. I suppose you can call it acceptance, if anything. There's nothing I can do now, they're gone and that's that but I still miss 'em.
I went on myspace and swiped some pics of a few friends from home that are still upright, for the most part. I have moved so many times, leaving a trail of possessions in my wake that any pics I had are long gone, so I made do with what I could find. I'll probably post one of me and C. eventually so y'all can get a look at us, if you even care. Or even if you don't, fuck it.
So , yesterday I was battling a case of Dope sick lite in addition to a case of the poor Me's. I rarely feel sorry for myself but everyone has their moments. So I did what I always do when I feel like shit and there is no narcotic refreshment to be found. I engaged in some cosmetic terrorism.
I can be a girly girl sometimes but for the most part I could care less if my nail polish is chipped or if my make-up is perfect. The one thing I usually pay regular attention to is my haircolor.
I have dyed it every color of the rainbow and some that you would be hard pressed to identify. I stopped with the crazier colors because not all tricks were as fascinated by purple, blue,or pink hair as I was. One of my few concessions for the sake of my profession.
When I got here to New Mexico, my hair was a non-descript shade of brown. So un-me but I was just so wrapped up in kicking and getting adjusted to this travesty of a town that I didn't think about it. Later when I brought up the subject of taking it in hand and maybe going back to violet or some such shade, C., who has become insufferably uptight about shit, suggested that I leave it be , as it might give the neighbors the wrong impression.
That statement alone would usually have been enough to send me helter-skelter to the nearest beauty supply to purchase the most obnoxious color they carry. I don't deal well with patronizing ass faces.
However as I had promised myself that I would really try to be good and behave for the sake of my relationship with C., I resisted the urge and resigned myself to the fate of doo doo brown hair.
I have brought it up occasionally only to be told that I am better off sticking with a natural color, like brown.
Yesterday, I could take it no longer. I was feeling like shit, both physically and emotionally and when I passed the bathroom mirror in that state, the dull mass of crap colored hair was the final straw.
I rushed to the beauty supply and re-stocked. After arriving home I immediately went to work, furiously bleaching, dyeing, toning and finally cutting my hair beyond all recognition.
It was fucking marvelous!
I ended up with hair every shade of blonde, from platinum (on top)to golden brown and a wicked shade of blue black underneath. I chopped it to my shoulders, relieving myself of about six inches of hair. Then attacked it again and razored the ends.
I am brilliant! Incomparable! And strangely satisfied in a way that usually results from a good fuck or a good shot. I even got around C.'s little directive about natural colors. The hair on my head is all natural colors, it just happens that none of them are mine. But I will tell you this I am the best god damned un-natural blonde you will ever come across.
Un-natural, it applies to me in so many ways but I find that strangely satisfying too. XOXO Melody
