Hypocritical much?

The title is an attack on myself. This post, when compared to my last one, isĀ very hypoctrical. You know that Greek guy, Hypocrites? (pronounced Hip-oh-kret-ees) Well, I’m his mother.

The word hypocrisies? It should be hypocrisis. Not that there’s a hippo crisis. There could be, but my own dilemma has turned my thoughts to myself in a selfish, artificial way.

The source of this dilemma, this conundrum? My hair.

I reeeeeally want a haircut. I would like to get a haircut. I’d love a haircut – I need a haircut!

Soon I will be going to Italy and I have heard a few times recently that, upon meeting me, people tend to thing I’m a goody-two shoes who sits home and knits. “Really boring”, one girl said. “A good girl”, a work colleague said. “Kind of quiet”, from another.

While I honestly do sit home and knit sometimes, and I’m more of an introvert than an extrovert, and I hate getting into trouble, I want to be someone who looks exciting and fun because I am fun.

But – I am scared. I don’t want to be passed over because I look boring. First impressions are big in this society – seeing someone’s face on a display picture on Facebook can define one person’s impression of another. I don’t want to look boring, I want something happening on my face, something that makes me stick in people’s mind.

I want a different look and my hair is something that can do that.

Even though it is superficial. Even though it *gasp* costs money. Even though it’s all of that – it’s just a haircut.

Buuuuut…. I want one.

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