I took my bones for a walk
it was good and dark and cold
I took my bones for a stroll
by a morgue and an empty tomb
My bones are insisting
they want to be let out
and free to roam on their own.
My bones want to get out
They want to be free to roam
I told them to stay put
but they keep scratching to be let out
I think
they are looking
for a nice new warm home.
This morning I got up late, couldn’t decide what to wear, forgot to eat and ran out the door so that I could make my appointment on time.
I felt worn out and my new shoes pinched my feet a little and by the time I got to my appointment for my third and probably last hair appointment of the year I felt like this:
I was ready for a little brightening, for a little magic- for a miracle I guess because as of late I have not felt very bright or magical.
So mask on, fingers crossed and here we go:
Why did I wait to get this done?
You know, I’ve been writing, enjoying the summer, I just didn’t want to sit in a chair for three hours- which is what it takes when you have long hair, need a cut and color and highlights.
But I sucked it up and went for it because it was time:
Believe it or not, when we took that plastic thing off of my head and rinsed my freshly cut hair- and I could see the color and highlights I felt pretty wonderful. Plus my bangs no longer went passed my nose- I looked like my head was backwards when they fell forward.
I thought it was fun because it was so morbid looking- but you know, to be honest it was seedy looking
I wanted to take to post this selfie on FB but my stylist reminded me we weren’t done yet.
For the most part what you see above is the real magic- but this what comes last is the fun part
Next up- we rocked the cut and color:
When I was a kid having long curly hair was something I got teased for- that was back in the 70’s and long straight feathered hair was THE LOOK.
By the time I graduated from highschool I had cut my hair short- well, OFF and I was glad to see it go. I was so tired of not looking like I fit in, of being such a big ugly slob with big ugly hair.
So what happens a few years later? Yep. Big curly hair was in.
I just can’t seem to hit that fashion target.
My Grandmother Ginger told me that when I woman turns 50 she should cut her hair.
It was ‘dignified’.
When turned 50 a few years ago I looked like this:
On the days where I feel like my outside matches up with my insides I feel light, confident, graceful.
How great would it be if I could always feel like that.
amm