I got my hair cut last week. I went from long to short. I like the short, and I really liked it today when I straightened it. Unfortunately, since it was raining, it went sort of curly but not really, and just looked bad. An occupational hazard of curly hair, if you will.
But, I got a hair cut and people kept telling me that they thought my hair was cute. I’m not sure what cute means. I wasn’t aiming for cute. Ravishing and resourceful yes, but not cute. Cute is kittens and puppy dogs and little blonde girls with ringlets. Cute are the onsies that Jen makes. I wanted elegant, lovely, attractive. Not cute.
My hair was cute.
My boss came over today and told me that we had to re-run a data base process. Actually, he came around and said “Kiddo, we have to re-run process X.”
I’m a bit confused. I am – maybe – 12 years younger than my boss? Maybe. He’s not that old, and I’m not that young.
I wish I had said something, anything. Kiddo? (I was a bit shocked by the kiddo remark, rendered speechless, you might say). I looked good today. The running and weight loss are paying off, I’m telling you. And I assure you, I have been well enough developed for long enough that no one is going to mistake me for a pre-pubescent girl.
So, when I grow up, I want to have elegant and lovely hair, and I want for people to stop calling me kiddo.
What about you?