Right. They are not me. It's so obvious. It is, right? And yet that's what I'm hearing these days about my hair-- "It's very [insert celebrity-type with really short hair]." Okay, so it's really only me who thinks "Brigette Nielson" (it's just a fear of mine--based on that whole "we're kind of gigantic" commonality.) But last week I heard "Annie Lennox" a half dozen times and this week it's "Jamie Lee Curtis." I don't have the bone structure of either of them, and, um, I'm younger than both of them.
So while I'm flattered that people are starting to think my hairstyle is a choice, the comments seem to be confirming for me that "it's a style" but it's not "my style." I'm still not-so-patiently waiting for mine to reach a point where I no longer feel the need to explain to unsuspecting total strangers who happen to glance at my head that "it's still growing out from cancer and reallyIdidn'tchoosethisI'mjusttryingtogrowitoutandIpromiseitusedtobelongandnormallooking." In the meantime, the me with the short hair is still learning that women can actually be pretty nice to each other. Who knew?
