I was thinking today, while alone at the local pub waiting for folks to join me (which they never did), about looks. I spent the first many years of my life thinking I was a) short and b) ugly. As I'm not a leggy, tan, voluptuous blond, both "a" and "b" became my norm. Then I got to college and thought that "Wow, Catholics are short!" which, over time, turned into "Wow, a lot of girls are short!" and is now, "Wow, everyone is short!" I also have got to a point where I don't snort derisively when someone claims I look pretty. Though I do still snort in surprise.
Lately, my hair has been a topic. It's odd getting compliments on how long it is, because it's purely a testament to how lazy I am. I don't have to do anything to make it grow. And as my hair has broken multiple elastic bands and brush bristles this week while still being annoyingly in my face, I'm thinking it's time to chop it off.
These are the things I think of by myself in a pub. Also, I was thinking that I see the world through an 80's filter. As in, when I see grown-ups and teenagers riding tiny little bikes, I don't think "Wow, cool." I automatically think "Wow, they stole some little kid's bike. What a jerk." And I still think kick scooters are super dorky; I don't care what the 90's (nineties) and 00's (naughties) thought. Yeah, me and my 80's filter are rocking out today.
Moral of today's story: Locks of Love needs a minimum of 10 inches of hair to donate. I'm at nine and a half. Hmm.
An Erinku:
candle
crispy around
edges
"Warning: flammable!"
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