I try. I try to be girly. I try the make-up. I try the cute clothes. I have boxes full of jewelry, hair clips and cute shoes. I try. But sometimes trying just isn’t enough. I have make-up but don’t have a clue how to use it right. I’m almost 27. Sad isn’t it. I blame my mom (when in doubt blame the parents). I spent way too much time climbing trees, bike riding and getting dirty when I was child. I didn’t bother with make-up in jr. high or high school. My hairstyle hasn’t changed since kindergarten, well until now. I’m just not good with girl stuff. I suck at talking about my feelings but I’ve gotten better at matching my clothes. I like sports, fishing, and the outdoors. The only make-up I wear is mascara. Occasionally my friends will take pity on my inabilities and do my hair and make up for me. I try. I really do. And then I say fuck it. I’m me. I’m not super girly but I like pink. I’m not super girly but I own make-up. I’m not super girly but I throw a tantrum like no other. I’m fine with not being super girly however, this new hair cut is proving to be a problem. I went out and bought a few things a round brush, root booster, moose to give it volume, and those circle headbands fro the gym. The damn brush got stuck in my hair. The root booster smells good but I have yet to notice any boost. The moose makes my hands sticky and my hair a little hard. And for the second time in my life those dumb headbands slide right off my head. I even bought the ones with the “extra grip for a better hold” logo. False advertisement. So again here I am. The not girly girl giving it a good try. At least I try. I refuse to be beaten by a round brush and some damn gel.
I used a round brush once before in my life with the same traumatic end result. I assumed that with age came wisdom. I assumed wrong. I can’t even explain the feelings I felt while standing in my bathroom with the blow dryer in one hand and staring at the brush dangling effortless in my hair. Pure pride mixed with overwhelming defeat. At least I’m trying I thought. It was all very reminiscent of the times my wonderful brother would hold me down and tangle the wheels of his remote control cars in my hair. Nothing like standing up with a RC car hanging from your hair.