General, Health, Life

Neuroses and shallowness. And hair.

11.11.10 | 5 Comments

In the words of Gob, I’ve made a huge mistake.*

They’re called bangs. I’ve had bangs before. And I’ve grown them out. Just when they’re starting to become part of my regular hair, I go and do something stupid like cut them again. It was to encourage me to fix my hair, and also to cover the stubborn forehead wrinkle that has become permanent, despite my best efforts. The onset of post-haircut remorse was record-setting this time. I keep trying for these cuts that look good in theory, and then put on my head, it’s just… not edgy. It probably says more about my face than anything else.

I’m always in hair limbo. In sixth grade I had hair most of the way down my back. Probably not a good look for me, in hindsight. And I was getting headaches, both from the weight of it and also because of the maintenance. So I cut it. To my shoulders. Nothing too drastic really. But the feedback was almost entirely negative. “WHAT’D YOU DO?!” Whatever – I think it looked fine, and I liked the change, but I’ve always been a little hesitant to cut my hair, especially after committing to growing it longer. I love long hair. I think it makes one look more… natural? Easy going? Free-spirited? In the right way, of course. There are exceptions. Maybe those things don’t describe or suit me…

Am I impatient, or do I really prefer it shorter? Post chemo, I had fun with the various stages as it grew, and I think my favorites have been bobs or shorter. I feel like longer hair drags me down. And it ends up in a pony tail most days, because let’s face it, I barely have time to put on clothes, and I value sleep more than looking nice. (I’ll make time for makeup though, or take it with me, because we don’t need running and screaming people in the streets.)

Basically I look about the same or worse, but my hair FEELS better. It was getting krusty on the ends. Plus I needed to catch up with my stylist. ๐Ÿ˜‰ The bangs will grow out, and maybe I will have learned my lesson and keep them that way.

Couple this little indiscretion with my recent 10+ pound weight gain, and I’m looking pretty great these days. Most of my 20s were spent fearing what would happen when, inevitably, my metabolism slowed. It was either a self-fulfilling prophecy, or perhaps an unfortunate coincidence, that my 30th birthday was associated with a month-long illness, hindering my workouts, and a more sedentary studying schedule. And of course I love sweets. So 30 for Blake is not hot. But I’ve started back with Jillian and am pining away for the days of less stringent adherence to a healthy diet (I’m not “on a diet” because those do not work and make me depressed), which means I’m trying.

In the meantime, there are barrettes and large clothes.

*If you’ve never enjoyed Arrested Development, for whatever reason, I’m sorry. Because it’s hysterical. Here‘s a compilation video; I apologize for the ad.


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