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I’m a little bitchy today.  Yeah, that part is NOTHING new.  I’m tired (slept until 7:30 which is 30 minutes after I’m supposed to already be at work), my right foot feels weird, I have definitely caught Josh’s cold, and my stomach is odd but in a different way than usual.  I would really prefer to be anywhere but at work.

The ex got back to me and “oh, she told me about the bonfire – that’s right, well this was just an idea I had, no big deal.”  Right.  Hows about you go fuck yourself.  I’m fairly sure the brat is happy to bitch to her mom about how we never take her anywhere, but I don’t give a flying monkey fuck.  All I have to do is make sure she has access to food, water, a place to sleep that is out of the elements, and a bathroom facility – that’s pretty well it.

Sorry, I’m trying not to be THAT bitch today.

Anyway, the different thing – let’s talk about hair.  (I’m a girl, I have hair, and I have the keyboard – we’ll talk about any fucking thing I want.  Be nice or I’ll start doing tampon comparisons.)

When talking about hair in regards to a woman, you could potentially be talking about several different things.  We have hair on our heads, our faces sometimes, under our arms, our pube area, our legs – that’s a fuckton of hair.  And in our culture there seem to be some things we sort of take for granted that women will or won’t do with their hair.

For example, your average Caucasian soccer mom most likely won’t shave her head.  Guessing this is probably a holdover from earlier times – perhaps the cave man era – when men wanted us to have a nice fistful of stuff on our heads to drag us around by.  At some point it became acceptable to have short hair, but most women still don’t go quite that short – unless they’re part of a counter-culture movement where they want to make sure they stand out. I have always wanted to, but I’m kind of chicken shit – I think my head might be funny shaped and I don’t really have big enough boobs to make it readily apparent that I am indeed a girl.  Not that I’d have an issue with being hit on by a gay man or another woman – actually, that might be kind of an ego booster.  Hmm, have to think on that…

But if we have short hair, we look longingly at our sisters who have long hair and think about whether we have the patience to grow ours out.  If we have long hair, we look at our short haired sisters and wonder if we’ll ever be brave enough to lose most of our locks.  If our hair is straight we wish it was curly and then some of us get those unfortunate poodle perms.  If our hair is curly we do terrible things to it to make it straight.  Few of us are satisfied with the color.

I’m kind of an odd duck when it comes to hair – all hair.  I tend to cycle with my length, style, and color – it’s been really short and damn near all the way down my back.  Right now it sits at my shoulders.  It’s naturally curly, though that didn’t come about until lithium became one of my four food groups.  My natural color is some flavor of medium brown with a whole lot of gray moving in, but right now it’s colored a lighter brown with pale blonde chunky highlights.  I do get my eyebrows waxed every month, and I still tear up every time.  My hairdresser is excellent and so my brows look delightfully natural.  Just wish that shit didn’t hurt.  (how big a puss does that make me – I’d totally rather have a tattoo than get my eyebrows done – I am weird)

I shave the whiskers on my chin because I’m too fucking lazy to pluck them.  They’re jet black otherwise I wouldn’t bother.  I tend to shave the hair under my arms when Josh starts telling me he’s about to braid it – it’s so pale you almost can’t see it and I have those nasty cysts under my arms and it hurts like a mother fucker to slice them open.

I am far too old to be bothered to do anything with my pubes.  I’ve been known to shave them as a younger woman, but let’s get real – once you go down that road it’s a lot of fucking upkeep.  And that shit itches when it grows back.  We will not even discuss getting hot wax anywhere near that part of my body.  No.  And I can’t honestly remember how long it’s been since I’ve shaved my legs.  Again, the hair is baby fine and quite pale except around my ankles.  I figure if someone gets close enough to my ankles to see it and wants to say something shitty, my foot is right there to kick them in the fucking mouth.