Friday, July 10, 2009

Just as I am

I spent 2 hours at my friend's hair salon today, trying to decide whether to get my hair and the extensions I have in permed, so as its permanently curly, or to get some new hair extensions and become a red-head. I decided on the latter...think dark Lindsay Lohan stylee rather than ginger-nut biscuit.

I then got home and had a mini break down, furiously trying to unclasp my current hair extensions and in the end just ripping or cutting them out of my head, leaving me with much less hair that when I started. It seems the extensions began to resemble the 'old me' and that I needed them out out OUT!

I really don't know when this 'new me' started. It wasn't a concious decision to change, as I have said before. But my hair, which was dark, straight, long and sexy in a slutty Playboy way, suddenly represented everything that I'm not anymore.

I don't want to be that person....you know when you know you look good...but guys look at you, and then look at their buddies, and give each other that 'yea, I would fuck her' look? And then they look at you in that 'yea, come suck me then' look?

Soon after, you pass a girl or two, who look you up and down. Here in Swindon, we refer to the expression on their faces as 'dogging' (as in, "did you see that bitch just dog me up?") Then comes the cackle from the group of girls as they are far enough out of ear-shot to bitch about how short/tight/tacky your skirt was.

And, although you still know you look hot, you don't feel beautiful.

Then there is the person that I am apparently becoming, in which you can be walking along...say in a pretty white dress, little makeup if any on, hair in a pony tail or loose ringlets, and you walk past a guy and he actually looks at you. And then you walk past a girl and she smiles at you. Because you seem like a 'nice girl', someone wholesome enough to smile at. And you feel beautiful.

Having said all of that, it's not others opinions of me that make me feel good or not. I used to be able to go out, tarted up to the nines, and looking bloody good (though I say so myself!) and not give a damn what people thought. When guys looked, I would stick my boobs out further and wiggle my arse more. When girls dogged me up, I would give them a pitiful look, flick back my straight long hair and toddle off in my stilettos feeling even greater about myself because someone thought I looked good enough to be jealous.


I went out in Swindon the other week and I could not believe my eyes. The skirts had got shorter. The jeans tighter. The boobs bigger. The hair straighter. Through the course of the evening I witnessed:

-A woman giving a man a blowjob on the street
-A heavily pregnant woman bump and grind her arse into a bloke to some RnB on the dancefloor
-A man, who had fallen asleep in the chip shop, get carried out and placed on the pavement outside
-The police walk past said man, point, and continue walking
-On the drive home, a girl run into the road screaming for help, fleeing from a bloke a few metres back. I slowed the car and she jumped in crying, telling us to 'just drive'. We dropped her at a petrol station where her friends picked her up.

I have always been a far cry from all of the above I am pleased to say.

And the attention I want now is different. I am comfortable without being tarted up. I feel hot when I am just in my pajamas, my hair in a plait, with my glasses on, first thing in the morning. I'm happy just being me.

And I want someone who wants me, as me. I want someone who calls me pretty instead of hot. Who says I'm good at talking rather than good in bed. Who rings me randomly just to chat, rather than for a booty-call.

But if I don't find a man with all that, then that's ok too. Because I am happy being me, just as I am.

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