Hair, the nonmusical
Aug. 23rd, 2006 02:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gwynI just made an appt. to get my hair cut on Saturday. As in, really really cut. It's been getting progressively shorter for the past 7 years, but now it's going to be very short -- I want to see if I can get it to look anything like Mary Beth Evans's hair, in my icon, who plays Kayla on Days of Our Lives. I love how cute her cut is, though I don't know if I can pull it off. I probably can't, since she has an actual chin, and the last time I had very short hair, I just looked like big giant blancmange on a neck -- with my fat face, no chin, and pale skin/eyebrows/eyelashes and no distinct features to speak of, short hair sort of gets rid of the lines that help create at least a pretense of definition.
But I can't get this one chunk on the side to do anything -- it won't style, it won't lay flat and mind its own business, it won't do anything but stick out spectacularly or if I wrestle it into submission, it looks like someone took a butter knife and hacked at my hair there. It refuses to look anything like the rest of the hair in its neighborhood, so maybe if I cut it off, I can stop fighting it.
Four years spent growing my bangs/fringe out, and now I'm going to cut them/it off again. Sigh. But I can't stand them in my face and my head is always down, reading, all day long. So, farewell then, my forehead hair, whatever it is called by your people. It means more annoying trips to the salon to get them trimmed, but it does at least get me out of the house.
ETA: I totally forgot to mention that last night I had a dream with Duncan and Methos in it. I think sometimes Methos was Peter Wingfield, and sometimes he was just Methos. Duncan was pretty much Duncan. At one point, Methos was very angry with me for losing some keys (it's much, much, much weirder than this description, but I fear if I say too much about it, people will never want to have contact with me again because it is so freaky) and I felt devastated. He was very mean to me. But I knelt down, in the dress I wore to Club Vivid, mind you, and found them, and just looked very sadly at him, gave them to him, and walked away without saying anything. Somehow I ended up in Vancouver by walking through a door and taking an elevator in a parking garage, and was looking for a salon to go get my hair cut in. Knowing that I was wearing an evening cocktail dress and it was daytime and people were looking at me like I was freak. And I was hoping that Methos was back there feeling very, very bad.
But I can't get this one chunk on the side to do anything -- it won't style, it won't lay flat and mind its own business, it won't do anything but stick out spectacularly or if I wrestle it into submission, it looks like someone took a butter knife and hacked at my hair there. It refuses to look anything like the rest of the hair in its neighborhood, so maybe if I cut it off, I can stop fighting it.
Four years spent growing my bangs/fringe out, and now I'm going to cut them/it off again. Sigh. But I can't stand them in my face and my head is always down, reading, all day long. So, farewell then, my forehead hair, whatever it is called by your people. It means more annoying trips to the salon to get them trimmed, but it does at least get me out of the house.
ETA: I totally forgot to mention that last night I had a dream with Duncan and Methos in it. I think sometimes Methos was Peter Wingfield, and sometimes he was just Methos. Duncan was pretty much Duncan. At one point, Methos was very angry with me for losing some keys (it's much, much, much weirder than this description, but I fear if I say too much about it, people will never want to have contact with me again because it is so freaky) and I felt devastated. He was very mean to me. But I knelt down, in the dress I wore to Club Vivid, mind you, and found them, and just looked very sadly at him, gave them to him, and walked away without saying anything. Somehow I ended up in Vancouver by walking through a door and taking an elevator in a parking garage, and was looking for a salon to go get my hair cut in. Knowing that I was wearing an evening cocktail dress and it was daytime and people were looking at me like I was freak. And I was hoping that Methos was back there feeling very, very bad.
