Wednesday, December 8, 2010

No More Christmas.

I really don't like Christmas.

I don't like all the over hype, I don't like all the crowds, I don't like all the people who donate to some cause ONCE A YEAR and think that makes them a saint. I don't like trying to go to the store to buy some boots and ending up getting mowed over by some woman who has to get the new "It" toy or Jayden or Brayden or Katelynn or Maddisyn or whatever will be SO disappointed.

The things I remember from Christmas aren't the presents. The things I remember are crowding into my grandmother's tiny house with all our billion relatives and laughing and talking. I remember my aunt making me special Jell-O shots because I was sick so often, or had braces, or whatever. I remember seeing my cousins and being called "Dodie's daughter, you know the hippie one."

Apparently refusing to eat pork, talking about carbon emissions and overpopulation makes me a hippie. It's sort of amusing. No, Uncle, I don't want to go hunting with you. No, I don't know how to help you catch a buck all "scientific."

I remember baking cookies with my aunt. I remember eating candy glass with my cousin in the dining room and talking about boy bands. I don't remember my toys. I don't remember how many things I got or didn't get. I just. Don't. Care.

I'm not saying don't get kids anything. I'm saying--well, just remember that there's a lot beyond that, you know?

Now that I've been on a tirade about consumerism, allow me to be wee bit hypocritical and state what I got She Who Must Be Kept.

When my parents got married, my father turned to my mother and said; "You're not worth diamonds." That marriage is full of stories like this. And She Who Must Be Kept doesn't like diamonds anyway, but you know, it would have been nice to get them...

So, on black Friday, I bought her a diamond and sterling silver ring. It was twenty dollars, on super duper sale and all that. I know she won't wear it, I know she won't really like to wear it--but I just wanted to get it for the idea.

I think she's worth diamonds.

Monday, December 6, 2010

Dear Body, Why?

My body is so weird.

Our car is broken, and since She Who Must Be Kept decided I could have, we're not fixing it right now. We're waiting until spring when I get some sort of legal documentation that I can, in fact, drive (hint: I cannot). And out new one isn't repaired yet either.

So for the past two weeks, I've been walking everywhere that the bus can't take me. To the store, to pay bills, to Taco Bell, whatever. And after about four days of this, my heel started burning when I walked.

At first I thought I had just like, done something weird. Then I realized it was burning every time I stepped a certain way. So I didn't step that way anymore. Herp derp. But I never thought of LOOKING AT MY HEEL.

Oh my God. Blister the size of a marble. All hard and weird. I have no idea why it hasn't popped yet. I kind of wish it would. Do I put a band aid on it or leave it or pop it or...? I don't know!

Saturday, December 4, 2010

Pritty Hairs

I got a hair cut today.

My hair has always been--weird. Up until I was thirteen years old, it hung almost to my butt. It was long, thick, wavy, and this weird shade of dark brown with auburn highlights.

It was also ALWAYS a mess, ALWAYS in my face and ALWAYS back in a ponytail because fuck that. I don't have the kind of time to wash (with just a dime sized amount of that expensive stuff with all the vitamins and nutrients and whatever), condition (a nickle/quarter sized amount, NOT put on my roots but worked through, left to sit for at LEAST five minutes then washed out with COLD water), comb, blow dry, and then flat iron my hair. And yes, I know people who do those steps every day. Or at least every other day.

That is madness!

So I cut it shoulder length when I was thirteen with a pair of craft scissors a friend brought over. I've never had it past my shoulders since. I cut it to my scalp, in layers, in bobs, with bangs, without bangs, Goth inspired, rock star inspired.... Whatever I feel like that month, actually.

One of my friend's usually cuts it. She looks at it, decides it looks icky and then goes nuts in her bathroom with her kitchen shears. She always freaks out, but honestly--it is hair. It will grow back. I always tell her if I don't like it- that is okay. It will grow back.

Today, I was Christmas shopping with a different kid (the kid who wanted to give away LLG's bowling pass in a previous post), and he got a hair cut. I asked the stylist what she would recommend for my. My vitamin issues result in hair loss, which makes my hair look thinner and gross. I don't know yet if it's permanent. She said she had another client with the same problem.

"Layers! A bob! Lots of layers... Just get in the chair." she made it look really nice, and I look all cute and sort of flapperish, which I love. Only I keep going to put my hair in a bun, like I have all semester and there is no hair to put back in a bun.

I'm working on weaning myself off shampoo and conditioner altogether. It doesn't work for everyone, but here's hoping.