Tuesday, May 24, 2005
So, it has become clear to me that I can’t function without all my bras with me at all times. Well, not at all times, but I think I need to have all my bras with me wherever I am staying. I went to Montreal this weekend and when I opened my little suitcase at my friend’s place I realized that I brought with me all the bars in my current bra rotation. All of them. Several of them were totally un-wearable with the shirts I had brought with me. Still, in the suitcase they went and I didn’t even think about it. As I sat on my friend’s bed clutching no less than nine bras, half of which were of the pink frilly lace or transparent variety, it was clear: I have a problem.
I also realized that if I were to compare my body to our country, my hair would be Quebec. There are a few reasons why I feel this way. One is the fact that my only wash my hair once a week or so. However, the main reason is that my hair, like Quebec, while a part of a whole being lives by it’s own rules, always looks like a party, and gets pissed off easily. I have a massive head of hair that often makes it’s own decisions. Since my body includes my hair, I have to make it happy by spending ridiculous amounts of money, time and energy on it’s maintenance. For years I would go to the hair dresser and spend loads of money straightening it only to head back to the salon for several “touch-ups,” so that my hair would look a certain way. It demanded constant attention, but was never happy. Finally, I abandoned the straight perm and while my hair is happier it is still a diva. And a diva is ALWAYS high-maintenance.