If I have one true obsession, this is probably it. Which is strange, because I really don’t fuss over my hair. I like my dreads because I can hit the salon once a month, spend an hour under the drier, and ignore it for the next thirty days. So it’s strange that I call this an obsession.
But the truth is I love hair. I love to see it on other people’s heads, to touch it, to run my hands through it. I saw this Citi Hoppa conductor yesterday, a tough gangster-looking chick with a killer bob – I couldn’t stop staring! It was weird that her coiffe was so girly, but it just looked so perfect!
I wish I had caucasian [or at least Asian] hair so I could make it stand, dye it purple and pull a Roxette, just like my avatar. But, of course, if I actually had Caucasian hair, I’d probably still ignore it. I like my Sailor’s hair because it’s brown and softly spiky, I can run my hands through it, and he never has to comb it. Perfect!
Back to my own head. The short look has grown on me. And thanks to selective perception, I now notice all the girls [and boys] with long luxurious locks. Kind of like that scene in Ally McBeal where Georgia cut her hair, and then Nell came and twirled hers in the bathroom mirror.
But the odd thing is that I’m not jealous. I actually like my hair like this, even as everyone asks why. I think it’s because everyone asks why. I’ve always liked going against ‘them’, standing out for all the wrong reasons. In a world where the ladies either want their hair deliciously long, intricately bobbed, or rebelliously shorn, I kind of like being inbetween.
So, I think I’ll keep my hair short after all. Unless I change my mind. Or unless my Sailor says otherwise *wink* He’s surprisingly quiet on the matter. But then again, he’s a guy. Do you think he’s even noticed?
♫ Lying from you ♫ Linkin Park ♫