Wednesday, August 30, 2006


I know I have covered this before. I have this slight obsession with other people's obsession with my hair color (and seriously, by extension my pubic hair). And yesterday, a friend of mine, a friend who has long admired my hair a little too much and is naturally flirty went down a path he goes down so often with his coy, "OH? You are a TRUE BLONDE," and dude it was skeevy. He doesn't mean it that way but he does lear when he says it and maybe he was just messing with me, maybe J has told him this bothers me, HELL maybe he reads this blog (in which case QUIT THINKING ABOUT MY PUBIC HAIR PLEASE). It was especially weird in light of a few things:

1. He has told some one I know (but he doesn't actually know that I know) that he thinks I have a "juicy" ass.

2. He had just finished telling me all about his sex life because his wife just had a baby and there isn't one and was whining about "his needs" (and oh my god, don't get me started, that is the grown man's equivalent of a high school "but I'll get blue balls" and gets no sympathy from me. Buy some porn, grab some lotion and give that poor woman a break you ass).

3. He wants me to give him a massage.

But whatever, he doesn't actually mean any harm and is just missing the fact that seriously, my hair is blonde I didn't develop robotic pinchers for toes. This isn't really an important genetic expression you know?

But I also have issues with the phrase "natural blonde" because, I mean, I am one. Technically. Pretty much. It is actually more complicated than that and maybe I am just mincing words but I mean. I color my hair. I color it for stupid reasons and people just stare at me in amazement when I explain them. My hair is naturally medium ash blonde at the roots, light ash blonde in the middle section and platinum at the ends. This is a normal thing for blondes, people aren't used to seeing it of course because most blondes you know are really naturally something else. But I feel like the color at the roots makes me look sort of drab and sad. So I color it all one color. Sometimes darkening the whole thing to my root shade and sometimes to the medium shade and sometimes I go light (which is how J likes it). But it always bleaches out again, especially when I go tanning.

So I never know how to answer that, is my hair natural? Because yes. But no. And you can totally get this color with Feria. I mind-fuck it to death and actually now that I have typed this all out I think, perhaps I need to go to therapy for my hair.

When I got my hair cut last weekend the father-son duo who run my salon told me that they think my hair is too light. J immediately stomped his feet and started petting my head, saying that my hair is PERFECT right now. The right color, right length. Which perversely makes me want to cut it.

Dude, I cannot stop writing about my hair.

OH! When I was cleaning up my guest room I found THIS (admittedly the much older version)in my upper storage. My sister and I were the queens of the fucking Caruso during the 90's. We set our hair in those rollers and big giant curls. I have written before that I hated having big hair and curly hair and WHY DID I USE THIS HAIR APPLIANCE? I have no idea why.

That is a total life.

I do know why. I used the curlers to straighten my hair. The ends would be curly but the top would be straight and smooth. So I would set my hair at night and sleep on it and have straight hair.

But the fact that the damn thing is in my guest room makes me feel so SOUTHERN. Not that there is anything wrong with that. I just feel like I should love big hair and COLOR (channeling Kayne from Project Runway).

Heh. Maybe I should give it to my sister as a shower gift.

And sign up for hair related therapy.

1 comment:

Frank said...

I sure enjoy a good hair story. :-) I feel like your friend.