|
|
To do my part in breaking the silence, I post this. Dunno if it's serious or funny, hopefully a bit of both. Oh, and be warned, this might end up being a streak longish.
Some of you already know what this is about. For the rest, early January a guy from the gay student club mentioned that his bf had decided I need a new hair cut and a new dressing style. As a result I spent yesterday visiting the optician, a hair stylist and various clothes shops. And I'm about 180 euros (around $230, I think) poorer. And wondering what the hell was I thinking when I agreed to having streaks of blond and dark brown in my hair!  But to start from the beginning...
I woke up later than I should have in the morning, and of course missed my train and was late from the optician. Luckily they said I could still have the apointment, but it went a bit long so the next apointment the optician had started 30minutes late. My apologies to the nice looking old lady  . Oh, and never even consider getting contact lenses. Putting them on is... about 10 times worse than I though, and I wasn't keen on the idea of sticking my finger in my eye in the first place. But it was nice to see without glasses on my nosem for the first time in... 8 or 9 years.
Missing my train also meant that we didn't really have time to browse clothes shops before the hair stylist, so we just popped in and out of a few on the way. Didn't really find anything I would've agreed to put on, but I don't think my guide was serious about some of them. I hope.
So we went to the hair stylist. First thing she did, she cut my hair shorter. It was to the middle of my ears from the top of my head, so it was about time it was shortened. And then came the stripes. You should've seen me with the paper-thingies that kept the colour stuff from spreading! After that came a very carefully done messed-up hair cut look, with an iroquois thingy (umm... that's what it's called in Finnish anyhow. A line of hair sticking staright up (or in this case, away from the back of my head)) going down the back of my head. Didn't look bad (= my way of saying I kinda liked it), but even though the stylist said it'll be easy to do again by myself, I seriously doubt it.
After that came the clothes shops. The result was one red t-shirt, one yellow t-shirt, one red sweater, a red long-sleeved t-shirt, and a pair of dark blue jeans that sort of change their colour a little bit depending on the angle you see them from. And a pair of sore feet.
And now, the following morning, I'm sitting here wondering how I'll ever be able to leave the house in the bright red sweater. It didn't look bad on me in the shop, but... I'm used to wearing black and grey, the jump to red is a huge one. But if it looked ok on me yesterday, it'll do that today too. And despite everything, I had a great day yesterday, though I'll have to ask some other colours besides red and yellow I can wear. I may be gay, but...
Setras
That which is dreamed can never be lost, can never be undreamed.
-Master Li in Neil Gaiman's Sandman
|
] 
A Place of Safety
Search
Help
Register
Login
Home
Queer eye for the queer guy 
