Insides, Outsides, and the Shit that Holds it Together

Dora the Explorer goes salt and pepper.

Dora the Explorer goes salt and pepper.

I’ve been feeling restless.  The restless that says the winter was too long, I’ve been broken for too long, I need a big change.  Since moving to Hawaii still doesn’t line up with my bank account, I got a haircut instead.

I told the hairstylist exactly what I wanted, he did exactly what he wanted, and I hate it.  I knew I didn’t like it while I was still in the chair, but he had someone else waiting, and my patience for sitting still while someone tugged on my scalp (or, yanno, touched me) was exhausted.

This is silly.  It’s a perfectly nice haircut, and 70 percent of the time I don’t bother to do my hair anyway.   And when I don’t do my hair, it doesn’t matter how it was cut, I look like a walking used q-tip.  I can’t even see into most of the mirrors in my apartment, they’re placed too high, good enough for giving the illusion of a larger space. As I type I’m wearing my favorite summer skirt, a super comfortable plain brown skirt with a streak of white on the back, from where I brushed against a freshly painted wall the first time I wore it, five years ago. But that 30 percent of the time– that’s what I cut my hair for.  This ladies-who-lunch-on-delicate-low-carb-dandelion-salads isn’t me.

I posted a photo to my personal Facebook page to whine about it, and my lovely and supportive friends all said all the right things about how nice it looked, I’ll get used to it, etc.  Quite a few of them also agreed. It just doesn’t reflect the inside me.  What does that mean, anyway, and why does someone who doesn’t bother to do her hair and regularly wishes she could stay in pajamas all day care about this?

I’m a pretty ordinary gal with a pretty ordinary life, someone who swings between stuffing all fantasies under the dirty laundry pile and dreaming about one of my word collections being available for purchase in a bookstore, all while carefully remembering to use qualifiers in personal statements.  If my 40,000 year old dreams haven’t become realities, if I’m not claiming my fantasies as possibilities, what’s wrong with looking like I’m running for office on a ticket I’d never vote for–and using run-on sentences while I’m at it?  You might say I’m average with an edge of funny, nice with an edge of bitchy, regular with an edge of  kooky, or even tired with an edge of ragged, but there’s no doubt I do have an edge.


All this moaning, you’d think I wanted a mohawk.  I don’t, just a little oomph, a little oh! a woman who lives in a box but dreams outside of it–maybe even a little humor under that frizz.  But maybe not, maybe this bob is who I am, as opposed to who I thought I might be.  Which one is your hairstyle supposed to match?  Most of all, now that I’ve spent way too much time thinking about the dead cells sprouting from my head, what about you?  Do your insides match your outside?


  1. I agree that the cut doesn’t match your insides. I would also like to state, for the record, that I quite like how your hair normally looks and that it doesn’t at all look like a “walking used q-tip”. Crazy woman, sheesh. I think it’s a lovely, tousled curly/wavy look, which I personally like, if you can’t tell.
    Wish you could see how lovely you actually look.


  2. Pleh! You know the thing about hair? It’s the easiest part of your external appearance to change. I do it all the time. Color it, don’t color it. Grow it long, cut it with scissors or an exacto knife. Curly, straight, puffy, limp. It’s not immutable, hair. And while a haircut you hate can make you cringe, make others sit up and take notice for better or worse, it’s oh-so temporary. Nothing even close to defining. Only a reflection of a moment, that moment when you you said, “how about this” to your hairdresser. That’s all. It might change how you see yourself in the mirror for a minute, but it can’t change your insides one iota.

    But if you’re feeling too R-ish, Mrs., you could always dye some temporary purple and blue strips in there. Yanno, edge. Then you’d never have to worry about getting elected. 😀

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I just glanced in the mirror to see if my insides matched my outside. Yikes. I hope to hell not because if they did, I’d be a hot mess right now. 🙂 As for your hair, from the back it don’t look half bad, mrs fringe. In fact, it looks pretty and I’m sure the front is equally pretty.

    The feeling you have about this haircut is a reflection of our social mores, but looks can be deceiving, and what you see ain’t always what you get.

    You are who you are, in all your glorious glory. One precision-cut bob isn’t gonna change that. In fact, to me it’s like taking a chance, pulling on an outfit you’d never, ever wear, just to see how it feels, see if it changes how others perceive you. This could be a social experiment, mrs fringe!

    Regardless, it doesn’t change who you are. Which is great, because I love who you are.

    xoxo kk

    Liked by 1 person

    1. lol, funny how those hot mess days don’t bother me at all. 😀 Looks can be deceiving, it’s true, don’t judge a book by its cover and all that, but the reality is that we are judged by how we present ourselves to the world, every day. The presentation makes a statement, who we are–or who we believe ourselves to be, and how we would like others to perceive us. OK, social experiment accepted, we’ll see if I get flagged down by volunteers/petitioners from different political beliefs than usual. 😉 And always, always thank you. ❤


  4. I just wanna say that, seeing your sublime presence from the back, you look totes hot. And I just wanna plow my sweaty hand through those soft tresses and drool a thousand little kisses on that tender little sliver of real estate under that bob … Oh, this is not the erotica SYW forum? Sorry, I got carried away.

    I think you should reconsider the mohawk. I had it once. I thought people would stare. Instead, others overcompensated by not looking at me. It was the weirdest feeling – like being invisible.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. lol, here’s where I admit I’ve never even been in the erotica SYW forum. I’m remarkably uptight for someone with the vocab of a truck driver. 😉 Interesting about the mohawk, I have a friend who keeps his hair in one, and dyes the center strip graduated shades of whatever color he’s feeling when he gets it done–I’m going to ask him if he has the same experience. 😀


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