Random-As-Shit Thoughts on a Thursday
1. My dad always told me if you were able, you should always do things on your own. None of that hiring-other-people crap to paint a wall. You better strap on some raggedy old overalls, get your god damn paintbrush and get to work. Never mind the fact that you’re trapped in a pressure cooker while the smell paint thinner and toxic fumes begin to amass a lethal attack on your precious brain cells. (Who needed those extra thousand cells anyway?) Well, I’m not usually like that. Honestly, I’m lazy as hell. If I can pay someone to screw a light bulb in for me, I’m gonna do it. (Yes, even a light bulb.)
Anyway, I decided to heed my dad’s advice and do something I’ve never done before. Cut my own hair. I mean, why pay someone to cut my hair when there’s hundreds of videos on YouTube promising me I can do it beautifully on my own with a few easy steps? WHY? Why spend my $30 when I can step into my bathroom and walk out looking like a celebrity? It just makes no sense.
Ladies, listen to me and listen to me closely. Never.cut.your.own.hair. Okay? OKAY? Those bitches on YouTube are lying.
2. I’m in the process of kind of “rebranding” (for lack of a better word) my blog. I’ll be changing the look, theme, colors, everything. It will still be humor-based, but with some other things added in. I love writing random humor stories, but I’ve been struggling to find things to write about. Not sure if I’m just getting old and boring or what’s going on. While humor stories will still be the main focus, I’ll be adding in other things that I’m interested in as well. This whole undertaking has been quite anxiety-inducing, so bear with me.
Today I faced one of my biggest fears and got a haircut. I know. It doesn’t seem like a monumental occasion, and you’re probably thinking I’m bat-shit crazy or that I’m really a 5-year-old masquerading as the classy woman I am. But, I assure you, I am not five nor classy.
It seems like a ridiculous thing to be scared of, but when you’re socially awkward… it’s a fear that runs deep. Forced conversations with a stranger with nowhere to run? There are very few things that are as terrifying as this.
Hairdresser: Hi Blair, how are you doing today?
Me: Hi! My name is Blair.
Hairdresser: Ooookay… What can I do for you today?
Me: I need like six inches off with some long whispy bangs. Not too short with the bangs though. My husband thinks they are ugly. He would never tell me what to do with my hair but I don’t want him to think I’m ugly. I rely on him for things, you know. I can either get bangs from you now, or get my bang from him later.
(looks up and realizes the hairdresser has bangs)
Me: You can be the exception to the rule because yours look good. I’m sure my husband wouldn’t think you were ugly. I don’t think he’d want to bang you though. If he did I’d probably kill him. I hope you don’t take that personally.
Me: I’m sorry. I’m nervous. I’m just going to sit here quietly and listen to Dr. Phil until it’s time for me to give you a generous tip.
I think I deserve a cookie for getting my haircut for the first time in a year, or at least, a high-five. On top of that, I went to the doctor for the first time yesterday in six years. Imagine how awkward I am when I have to take my clothes off and have the doctor’s icy hands of death touch me.
Small victories, guys. Small victories.
Marriage is awesome. Not only do you get to share everything in your life with someone, cook for them, and clean up after them. It also gives you the chance to come to terms with things that embarrass the hell out of you. Like the smell you leave behind in the bathroom after your morning cup of coffee, or the daunting idea that someone besides your mother will know you have hair that grows above your lip that you have to wax. Or, in my case — having the sleep farts.
I don’t know if having relaxed muscles and letting wind escape in the middle of the night is common or not, but imagine the horror I felt when I came to the realization it was uncontrollable. There was no more running to the bathroom and pulling my butt cheeks apart to let them silently escape and I could only blame the random noises in the middle of the night on our cat so many times. I was all in. I was married. I had to own up to it, and get over it. Man, the first year of marriage was interesting. I’ve become a lot more comfortable about the weird things I do in private since then. Obviously.
Another perk of being married: I’ve been able to try different careers out without any training. I’ve been a masseuse. A chef. And,most commonly — a barber. Would you trust me with scissors around your hair? You probably shouldn’t. One time, I cut a huge chunk off the top of Alex’s hair, which forced him to wear a hat for a month. But, he forgave me, and here I am… still holding the title of the resident barber. Bless his heart.
On a serious note: Find the person that treats you right and makes you happy. Don’t let go. Whether you want to get married or not… there’s no greater feeling than being blindly in love.