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My Profile
Gift from Hil Part 2 - 2014-12-30
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3:03 p.m. - 2010-03-03
And so the discussion goes on. Mick said he felt a little spanked by my last entry. Said when he puts on my eyes that so much of how he thinks and his own priorities seem dopey. He knows that wasn't my intention, understood that I was making a point about the starting place from where each sex views the world. I was not speaking of nurture. How we are socialized does play a huge role in how our lives pan out, no question. As do individual proclivities. But I hold fast to my opinion that if brought down to basic biology that males and females perceive things differently. The inherent priorities of what each sex notices and how they go on to interact with their environment IS different. Capability is another thing entirely. I don't think anyone is limited in what they can accomplish, at least not by their gender. Among my friends there are dancers, bankers, aero-space engineers, librarians, doctors, insurance agents, chefs, farmers, physical therapists, jewelry designers, landscapers, bakers, soldiers, homemakers, artists, and within each of those occupations some are women and some are men. So neither sex is lacking in anything essential to do those jobs or really anything else they want to put their hands and minds to do. So, let's move on, shall we? Yesterday I finally got around to bleaching my hair. With the 'professional grade' products that came in a huge canister and a gallon jug. Bwahahahahaha! The WORST yellow yet! All brassy and red-tinged and crayon colored (and not in a good way) I swear to god I looked like Howdy Doody's crack-head mother. Along with it being a horribly unflattering color on me, that color just screamed, "Hello! I am a hair bleaching idiot. Please sneer and mock! I have no clue what I am doing or how awful and trashy my head looks!" Fried scalp or no, I am sitting here with round 2 of this shite on my noggin. It's kill or cure. Either it'll strip out the rest of the pigment or it'll fry my hair so badly it'll break off at the roots. The former is the preferred result, of course, but even the latter is a better option than going around with inept colorist's crack-whore hair. *Just checked and the color is coming out. As to whether I've fried it to a fare-thee-well, this remains to be seen. Yesterday I had appointment #2 with the therapist-to-be-named-later. I like her. So far I've mostly just brought her up to speed on my past/present and have begun outlining my goals. I also have an introductory appointment on Thursday with a different therapist. She's putting together a women's group and I thought it'd be good to check that out too. I don't think I can afford to do both, but perhaps group is less expensive. One of the things I have to find out tomorrow. What I do know is that I am tired of lugging all this crap around with me and want to get un-stuck from this awful holding pattern. Somewhere along the way I stopped feeling allowed to chase my dreams. Without forward motion all the old unworthiness came back and I hate it. Time to check and probably rinse my hair. Back in a bit. And we have better hair color! Not perfect but hella better than crack-whore orange/yellow. (No, Terri, I won't be posting a pic today. LOL!) The thing about stripping out the color when my hair is this short is after a few weeks growing it out it looks really cool. All tipped and frosted with the brown growth beneath. As it grows I section it out and use the thinning shears on it. The ouchie long-ish process to get it as white as possible during my head's crew-cut stage pays long term dividends. Except for a couple trims and some thinning I won't have to do anything to my hair for months. Maybe around Mother's Day I'll start the process again. Mow to the scalp, bleach, grow, thin, trim, grow. Though summer is often when I get a wild hair up my butt to do something truly outrageous. Last summer it was raspberry. The summer before it was a million punky spikes in a multitude of (normal-ish) hair colors. This year? Who knows? Certainly not me. Just got off the phone with the ex. Put a bug in his ear about taking Wolf someplace cool over spring break. He has been doing this for the last few years anyhow, but it never hurts to prime the Disney Dad pump. Mike can afford to take Wolf on adventures that I can't and while sometimes I mourn it's not me who's taking him on these jaunts, the truly important thing is that Wolf gets to go. Hey, even if I'm going to be stuck in Mini-dunk until I die, at least my kid will be well-traveled.
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