Mar. 4th, 2017

So my hair is Manic Panic Inferno with slices of Deep Purple. I might try it the other way around in the future, but for now...

It's pretty startling to see it in the mirror. One of my cousins calls it "career-limiting red." A friend wonders about job interviews.

But I'm looking at it and thinking, damn, I'm gonna need to be bold if I have hair this bold. I am going to be looking for work, and hopefully scoring interviews, and when I sit across from someone who might be of the opinion that God's handiwork is always superior, I'm going to have to stare them down with a smile, with a face that says oh, honey, you need me, because I have the best head around inside and out. I am tenacious and ferocious, saucy at my dullest and aflame when the dial is at zero.

My hair is short and I use Rusk Glue or Paste while wet and spray wax once it's dry, so I can have a slice of violet curling gently over my brow and raise the red higher and higher. And as a woman who has been known to withdraw from the world when it is decidedly not my oyster, a crown of flames now requires me to face society with a grin, or at least a close-mouthed smile that might be hiding blood-stained incisors. If I am to succeed in my new adventure, I have chosen a coif that is not at all a defense, but both sword and torch, and I will need to be bold enough to wear it.

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rattlecatcher

October 2017

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