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I grew a bush because he said he is turned on by women who have hair down there. It doesn't break the top ten craziest things I've done for guys, but it was definitely one of the easiest to fix. He 69'd someone else, so I 86'd the bush. Started by trimming it down, then clipping it shorter, finished the job with a brand new Venus razor bought especially for the occasion. I shaved off the remains of the bush, plus the leg hair I've been ignoring, while I waited for my haircolor to set.
Changing my hair has always been the Hail Mary pass of keeping my sanity. When nothing else works, a haircut or color will often pull me out of a funk. When I was eighteen, I shaved my head in a manic fit. I'd already tried coloring it twice that week to no avail, but shaving all my hair off actually did help.
This time, I chose a bright reddish brown. Reds and blondes have always been my summer colors. Red is a color I choose when I need to feel powerful. I remember having brilliant red hair when J and I were at our happiest. Normally I step out of the shower, dry my hair, wipe the fog off the mirror and check out my new color, feeling like I've cheated on some kind of test.
This time, I looked at my reflection and actually felt regret. It doesn't look right. I've had this exact color many times before, but this time, it looks stupid and tacky, like I'm a tourist in my own hair. I can't wait for it to fade a bit. I feel silly and it hasn't even dried yet.
I don't know what I'm going to do with myself this summer. Nothing's working out like it's supposed to.