lost & found.

for the two years leading up to when paulie proposed, i faithfully grew my hair out like it was the be-all and end-all -- my hair and i would be prepared for when that kid finally popped the question if it was the last thing i did. when i finally accepted it might never happen, i sat in my friend lindsay's salon chair and let her cut my hair off until i looked like a boy. 2 weeks later, that fucker proposed. now, i'm not sure if it was out of spite, or done subconsciously (or maybe a little bit of both) but it was pretty clear to me that a short cut was what made him happiest (natalie portman or shannyn sossamon with a pixie gives him chub), so you know what i did next? grew that shit out for the wedding. 

now we're married and neither of us is going anywhere -- with no 'big days' to prepare myself for, or reasons to (or not to) cut my hair, i'm a free bird and can do with my coiffe as i please. so i have gone and done what any good wife would do for their man, and went right back to that same cut he loved enough to propose to. happening in stages, my hair went from tit length, to chin length, to cheek length and now i'm hovering somewhere around pubes length -- that's right, i have a head of ungroomed pubes, and paulie has never called me cute more than he has in the last week. whether i'm in full makeup, dressed for a party, or wearing his track pants and t shirt with nothing but chapstick on, he is a happy little boy, and i'm left trying to find myself again.

it's amazing how something like hair can change so much about the way you feel about yourself. i've always been the kind of girl who likes to experiment with cut, colour and style...hell i've been platinum blonde, brunette, a red head and somewhere in between all those things at once. it's been long, short, asymmetrical, and who could forget the time i had my friend neena spend three days  braiding every last strand of it into 25 packages of fake hair, only to have my father cut it off my head within four days because i had developed a migraine that was threatening my vision -- long story short, i've been everything but bald.

as i near the end of my 20's (i just puked in my mouth a little bit) i am finding myself trying to do just that; find myself. sometimes i think i have a firm handle on who i am and what i want my image to portray, while other times i can spend far too long to admit in front of the mirror, adjusting and readjusting the way i look, only to walk away more lost than i was to start. i know that every girl (and most likely boy) has had this problem at some point, so indecisive, so unsure, i feel like my acne ridden, 84 pound, breastless, pre-pubescent self.  i've always held onto the thought that as i get older, i will became more and more confident in myself, more self-aware, and i know i will learn to love and accept the way i look, and embrace it to the fullest, enormous pisces features and all. that's not to say i'm not happy with myself now, i just know those looming 30's will bring with them a new found appreciation for the girl i am and the girl my husband is in love with -- 
right down to the very last pube on my head.