Living the dream.

Okay, so maybe it's not really a dream, exactly, but today, I dyed my hair black. It's something I've wanted to do for years now, literally, but never had the guts to do before.

Much like I wanted to buzz my hair but never had the guts to, and then this June, I went and did it anyway.

I figure, "Why not?" It's not like it's hurting anyone, it's only hair, and dammit, I'm nearly 30, and I'm too old to be scared by the idea of my parents freaking out over some change in my life that they don't like. And that's what stopped me so many times before. That, and the thought that if it looked awful, I was stuck with it, and people would laugh at me, and it would be awful no matter what.

If it looks awful, I'm not stuck with it. I can shave my head again if I hate it that much. And if people laugh, they can bite me while they're at it. This is something I want for myself, not for them.

It's funny how crushing defeat, or at least the feeling of it, can galvanize me into doing something with my life or my body that I've wanted to do for a long time. It feels like fighting back. The world pushes me down, so I make a point of standing up a little taller and saying, "Wanna try that again?"

It feels good to be so bold, sometimes.