"Hey, Baldy!" yelled the overweight man as he passed by my office door, light gleaming off of his completely shaven, bulbous noggin. He had the back of the neck ripple. It's weird.
'He didn't even donate. How DARE Mr. Clean call me that,' I simmered, already angst filled from a frustrating day at the day job of doom. I realized then that I gave up rights to my head of hair as soon as I posted my first notification for the St. Baldrick's event. People now have OVERT opinions on my choice to shave, on my appearance now that I have shaved, and the growing out process. And I want to punch them.
A kind gentleman today told me I was stupid for cutting all my hair off. Another gentleman said that I was beautiful, and that I should keep it short. They feel like the own a piece of me now, and it's frustrating that I can't express to them that while I invited them into my life for the shave, I don't really need them now. It's hard enough dealing with my short haired self worth issues without adding on the opinions of strangers. Do I like my hair this close cropped? Not really. I look like a q-tip stuck into a basketball with legs. It's ok. It'll grow out. Am I glad that I did what I did? Fuck yeah. But the commentary is wearing on my nerves.
I am not a person who feels a need to chime in on the physical appearance of others, unless I am complimenting them. Hopefully, once the hair gets a little longer on top and stops looking so weird, the commentary will stop.
I may be a little sensitive right now. Especially since a member of the club just came in, pet my head, and told me it feels like his pussy cat.
LAUREN SMASH!
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