“It’s about something that’s bigger than me, or any single act of legislation. This is about a matter that should be of the highest importance to every American: my hair.” ~Elle Woods, Legally Blonde II
While that bold statement certainly made fictional Congressmen squint in confusion, it’s truth is beyond doubt: my hair is important.
Ok, so I’m NOT the girl who ‘gets her hair did’ every few weeks. Actually, I’m lucky if I get my hair cut twice a year. I’ve never dyed my hair, and I’ve only had highlights put in once. (I also lived without indoor plumbing in various cabins in Alaska for 25 months, but that’s another story.)
I’m just happy if my hair stays out of my face. Beyond that, I’m fairly apathetic.
Until the last couple of weeks.
Having stereotypes shoved down my throat for the last year has made me a very stressed and angry person. And in two months, I’m moving back to a situation where I can be myself.
But here’s the kicker: I have this evil streak, this devil’s advocate part to my personality that needs to be let loose. It has been pent up for the past 12 months, in the fear that if I showed my real personality, I would get in trouble. Texas, at least here in the Panhandle, is easily the most closed society in which I have ever lived. I’m scared to tell people I am NOT Baptist, I wasn’t a teenage mother, and I don’t eat red meat.
So when I move back to the real world in January, I’m cutting my hair and dying part of it blue. I just need to make the statement that I am free.
To that end, you should care about my hair.