My next few blog posts will break from reflecting on married
gaming. Instead, I am soliciting input from my readers about my hair quandary.
I will tell the story of my own hair journey and ask for input and
advice on whether I should cut off my long glittery/silver locks and dye my
hair an outrageous color?
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My streak of glitter |
Truly, Truly, Truly Outrageous

I was mostly a tomboy, but Saturday mornings were the
exception when I was transfixed by Jem and the Holagrams. To me Jem was
kick-a$$ pink version of Gene Simmons.
Long before I wanted to be a college professor I was fantasizing about
having crazy pink hair and jewelry that connected me to a super computer. It just
occurred to me in the last 24-hours I could totally have pink hair and super
jewelry.
Bad Hair
When I was 16 my identical twin entered beauty school. It was around this time that I first realized
that most young women don’t just come to school with the way their hair
naturally looks, they spend time manipulating and styling it (I still prefer
sleep). It would be another decade
before my twin would bequeath me a flat iron, barrel curling iron, and hair
dryer. I have always known how to French
braid or create a ponytail but in my 33 years I have only recently attempted to
“style” my hair because I feel crappy about my appearance. Hair is considerably important to the way
women both perceive themselves and are perceived. My hair has always been a way for me to say:
I like myself, even if I don’t fit into your hypersexualized, younger, better
version of what I could look like.
Buffy Hair
Twelve years ago, and inspired by a season 6 episode of Buffy "Gone" and I cut
off all of my hair. This is actually a
great story about how being married to me can be unpredictable.
I was watching Buffy and working on my masters thesis, as a
sidenote the topic of that paper was sex in video games. Buffy was playing in the background and I
realized I was pulling on my hair. I
walked into the bathroom and cut it all off.
Unlike Buffy, my hair looked terrible.
I immediately drove the 100 miles from college to have my twin fix the
mess I made. Her only option to correct
my hack job was a pair of clippers. She
was very pregnant and berated me throughout the process, after her required
payment of Cherry Garcia ice cream I headed back to school.
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Short Hair at E3 |
When I arrived to our flat/ aka the garage we rented, the
hubs was already asleep. It was a long
drive so I collapsed beside him relieved to finally be home. A few hours later I woke up to
screaming. His screaming. Imagine his surprise when he woke up beside a
person in face down with a buzz cut and had no idea who it was? Though he never woke me screaming again for
weeks his hands would roam to the nape of my neck and find my hair missing.