The Way It Is

Do you ever have a day where you just want to chop all your hair off, dress like someone else and reinvent your whole life?  It happen to me frequently, usually after being inspired by spotting some sassy young thing with a funky short hairdo and attitude to spare, wearing clothing that's a cross between thrift store and punk rocker.  Young people can rock that look, I think. Try it when you're over 30 and you just end up looking like you've been sleeping under a bridge for a month and have friends in low places.  I know in my younger days I used to wear some creations my mother used to refer to as my "black plague" look and I definitely sported some hairstyles that would make a nun cry.  That's youth for you though.  If you're not dyeing, spiking, piercing, tattooing or otherwise destroying something, you're not doing it right.

It's different when you're older.  You're not old enough to be actually old, but you're not 25 either.  Your mind is still young and willing but you're body's sort of like "Meh. I'd really rather play Cribbage."  On a good day you still look good and youthful.  On a bad day you look like you were rode hard and put away wet.

And as a slightly more mature lady, if you try an edgy little spiky do and some rock chick gear (which is how you feel exactly, in your mind) you wind up looking like an asshole, because Jesus Christ, woman, you're in your forties now, where's your dignity?

However, I have compromised in that I'm not interested in looking like a 25 year old, Doc Marten booted hipster nowadays, but I don't want to suddenly wake up one day, throw open my closet and find a sophisticated, corporate lady wardrobe full of high-heeled pumps either.  I'd be horrified.  And I'd probably fall over.  I need some happy transition medium.  Funky with a maturer edge maybe?  I'm not sure I'm at all down with the idea that once you're 40 you have to dress like someone's great grandmother.  Hell no.

And you're not supposed to have long hair after a certain age, according to all those know-it-all fashion mags. I don't know what that age is, to be frank.  But it's sort of true.  I mean I see "What Not To Wear".  I see some rather frumpy ladies in their forties and fifties with long, one length, shapeless tresses and I think "Gee lady, you'd look ten years younger if you cut that hot mess!" They cling to their long Rapunzel locks because to them, that's the one thing keeping them feeling young and vital and secure and they can't see that it does the opposite.

Then you see other ladies in that age bracket and they have long hair and look fabulous.  I guess it depends on the lady and the cut.  But it's confusing, all the mixed messages.  My hair is fairly long.  Collar bone length I'd call it.  And as far as I can see, it looks fine.  I don't look older than I am and people always seem to think I'm younger.  But I don't know.  I'd like it to be long and wild and funktastic but I'm not sure I can pull it off anymore.  Maybe I need to cut it off and start thinking about something age appropriate.   I'd like to, but I'm terrified it'll make me look older or frumpier or like someone I'm not.  I'm so indecisive.  How do other women do it?  I used to know exactly who I was and what I wanted, but now I can't decide a thing without asking someone's advice.  Eek.

You men have an easier time I think.  I mean you all just get sexier in your forties and you can rock the cool outfits without looking like a complete douche.   Unless you're sixty five and still dressing like a 25 year old rocker, then that's just a sign that you probably did too many drugs back in the day.  Or you're Keith Richards.

I guess what this boils down to is, I really need a haircut and I'm shit scared the hairdresser will give me some frou frou corporate lady hair or else I'll look like a soccer mom.  Is it wrong that this scares me more than zombies?

It Reappears

My sincere apologies for being away for so long.  I doubt you all noticed, but still.

I was having a sabbatical from my computer for a while due to work craziness that left me a blur of slightly insane neurosis by the time I got home every night and all I could do most nights was fall into an exhausted slumber.  At least until I would wake a few hours later in a panic, feeling certain it was 10AM, I was late for work and about to get my ass fired. Of course, it would always be 1:30AM and I'd be crazy for no reason.  I don't know about you but I have the worst time trying to switch off from work sometimes.  I don't want to think about it.  I want to forget it.  I want to come home, eat something, drink some wine, do something impossibly dirty or civilized, depending on mood, then sleep peacefully.  Instead, I come home frazzled, walk on my treadmill, take a shower, eat with El Cerebro, start watching something on the DVR, fall asleep mid way through and drool attractively on my shirt, pry myself awake so I can get into bed, fall asleep again, wake up at 1AM in panic.  Fold, rinse, repeat.  It's not like my job is that important in  the scheme of things either, it's just that I have this inability to detach from it.

I think a lobotomy might work.  Or some large cocktails served by an oiled up, naked man.   Worth trying.

I'm also in the midst of a new addiction.  Quakers Crispy Mini treats.   Come to mama.  I pretend to myself that because they are slightly healthier than potato chips and I'm a chip fiend, that this means they are in fact, akin to chomping on celery.  Don't burst my bubble please.  I enjoy fooling myself.   Honestly though, you must try the Sweet Chili flavor.  They make life worth living.  At least until the next cocktail.

I've also been enjoying having today off, surfing online and making a little girlie collage of things I really want to buy clothing and shoe wise.  It's so much fun.  I have relatively few clothes and shoes compared to most women and of course, this is license for me to go get more.  I mean I'd hate to be under average you know?  I got rid of a lot of stuff a while ago and never replaced them so my wardrobe's feeling sparse.  Cue girlie delight at concocting an imaginary (at least for now) shopping spree.  Is it wrong I am coveting about 20 pairs of summer, high-heeled, wedge sandals?  Because I don't think so.  I saved images of the stuff I liked in a little photo montage.  I may even have stroked each image lovingly on my screen and called it "the precious".  Next, handbags.  I am giddy with anticipation.   No wonder men think women are nuts.  You can explain to an intelligent man for hours but they will never understand that a lady needs more than one handbag or pair of shoes.

Now to go catch up on some blogs that I've neglected for far too long.  Hope you are all well.