Of all the things I could talk about today, the war, my family, school getting out, the slow motion bathroom remodel, K’s crying jags, my kitchen, family illnesses, my cats (Mr. Kaos says I should post more pictures of my cats, what is that all about?) the fact that my jeans are just a little too snug lately, the blue jays dive bombing my veggie garden, I’m going to talk about my hair.
That’s right, my fricken hair. Deal with it or move along.
I cut it. Well I didn’t cut it, my hair stylist (who has been doing my hair for about 7 years) did. I asked her too. In fact I paid her to do it. She did exactly what I wanted. Exactly what I asked for.
I think I’m displeased. Not with her. With me.
When too much is going on in my life I get a hair cut. Don’t know why. It’s always been that way. or I dye it. It’s black, I like it that way. The color isn’t going anywhere.
So I had it cut.
It was already short mind you. Now it is shortER.
I like short hair I really do.
But suddenly I feel like a 30something minivan driving dud. Which is odd since I am exactly 30 and do not drive and have no ill feelings about women in their 30’s that drive mini vans. I know many 30something mini van driving hotties.
Maybe it’s that I feel the hottie part falling off.
Come to think of it maybe I will talk about my pants being a little too tight…
Just so we’re clear I am not looking for any of you to say “but Camikaos, you are sooo beautiful and hawt. we love you. your hair is amazing OOOOHHH AHHHHHH”. I’m not fishing for a compliment I’m just talking.
I’m becoming more reflective and less… bouncy? I don’t know that I would normally describe myself as bouncy, but less bouncy I am. Less bouncy than before. I was bouncy once. Looking back I was bouncy enough that if the now me met the then me I would probably smack the then me so hard the now me would still have a bruise.
I was bouncy.
I deserved to be bouncy though, I went through some hard times with me, myself and I. Some general unhappiness, some pretty tough depression that I wouldn’t let anyone help me with… Somehow I pulled that all out of my ass and flushed it away and I was one day okay. Thus the bouncing.
I’m not depressed. I’m not unhappy. I am a little… anxiety ridden… but I am happy being me.
Until my pants got too tight and I chopped off all my damn hair… Maybe I should cut back on the cherry coke and fancy cheeses…