When it's cold outside and I have to wear three layers of clothing to be comfortable and the dry winter air has my skin flaking and peeling off and my nose is constantly dripping and I wear the same pair of sagging stupid jeans day in and day out, it's hard to feel pretty.
I think a shopping spree might help a little, especially one with stops at Sephora and Club Monaco and Barneys Co-op. Instead, I got my hair colored. Right now, I love it. However, once it's up to me to style it, it's a different story. A frizzy, messy story that needs layers. But for now, I present my newest hair color, which cheered me up a bit...it was a very yellow blond in front, now it's dark blond/light brown, with a few highlights. What do you think?
And for your consideration, more from the Hair Color Gallery...
First, here is my natural color...this picture is from last September, pre-blond, pre-wedding:
...And here is the blond-blond from the summer. It was the most drastic thing I've done to my hair in a while, and it was fun at first, then just started to look messy and frazzled, I think. When it's straight, I like the blond, but curly...uck.
My hair is the one aspect of my looks about which I can never seem to feel good. I always feel like I'm one good hairstyle away from being put together...from being one of those women who look polished and calm, even if they're in t-shirts in jeans. My hair ranges from wild and curly (in high school and college) to cute (the Meg Ryan shag I had in the late 90's) to bad (the super-short pixie cut I had fairly recently, which is not a good look when one has packed on the pounds) to blah (the long, shapeless hair I grew for the wedding, a sypmtom of the Bridal Syndrome). Even today, when I am loving the hair (dried salon-straight), I know it's temporary, and soon I'll be forced to wash it and my hair will revert to it's normal frizzy, puffy, messy self.
I covet long, straight hair with a desire that almost hurts. I would love to not worry about my hair, and about looking "right," but I do. I'm not trying to be Carrie Bradshaw - I have no interest in being the most noticable girl in the room. Neither am I trying to be Charlotte York, perfectly coiffed uptown girl. I just want to be more...polished. Me, but better. Sophisitcated, sexy, pulled together. I know a flat iron could solve all my problems, but I am thus far appliance-challenged, and burned my forehead the one time I tried to straighten my hair. Sigh...
Petty, but this is what's on my mind today...kind of the "my life would be perfect if only ______" thing. Today, it's my hair. My hair is much easier to dwell on than, say, my lack of career. Or shit-sty messy apartment. Or the Christmas shopping I haven't done. Oh well...new hair makes it all better - hooray for being a girl.
Do you think Gwyneth ever feels bad about her looks? Or Jennifer Aniston? Since I turned 13, give or take a year, I've been waiting for all my little problems to "fix" themselves - the pimples, the hair, the weight, the wardrobe, etc, etc - but I'm nearing 30, and maybe this is just who I am. I flip through magazines and wonder if I had just a little help, could I look Like Them? Is it really as simple as the right hair stylist makes a woman beautiful?
Intellecutally, I know that is not true...but most days I come home and look in the mirror and think, Almost. Pretty good, but not quite. Almost.
Intellecutally, I also know that it doesn't matter. My face is my face is my face, and fighting it does no one any good, certainly not me. I could write volumes about self esteem and pain and body image and eating disorders, but frankly, it bores me out of my fucking skull because I live with it every day. For now, I'll just admire my new hair color and consider it $300 worth of therapy.