Who buys 18-packs of beer?
I’ll tell you; people who are trying to pretend they’re not alcoholics. See, an alcoholic knows that they can’t get by with a simple twelve-pack, but they’re not yet far enough along the alcoholic path to not give a fuck about buying a case every day, so they just sheepishly buy the 18-pack, pretending they’re having people over.
No, just kidding. Eighteen-packs are actually perfect. For two people who don’t drink excessively, but tend to have great fun drinking beer and not stopping because they’re just enjoying it so damn much, it’s the perfect amount. A twelve-pack is just too little, a case is far too excessive, so just get eighteen and you’re good to go. If you’re lucky, you’ll have a few left over to sip on the next day.
Historically, the end of any of April’s past relationships has always called for a haircut or drastic dye job. I guess it makes sense; you just ended a relationship, why not hack off the hair or change the color associated with you during that time? I’m sure it’s actually a really common habit that many women have.
My hair is currently light red. While this is pretty awesome because it looks natural due to my pasty white skin and freckly face, it’s really not natural at all. I do have some red highlights in there somewhere in the land of April’s Natural Hair Color, but I haven’t seen more than an inch of my natural color in a little over a decade.
Yesterday I was looking through iPhoto and I came across so many versions of my own hair and I tried to determine which one I thought suited me the best. I had pictures of me with short blonde hair, long blonde hair, medium-length auburn hair, short black hair, short dark brown hair, and short black hair with a red top layer.
I think I prefer the dark brown, long.
I also think it may be a while before I go back to that, because I think I’m going to give the “natural look” a try. I’ve been deliberately physically artificial long enough, I’d say.
There’s another new one. I seem to be entering a new phase, which I think I will dub the “natural” phase, as that’s the best, all-encompassing description available. I actually haven’t shaved my legs in about a month, and I must admit, while I hadn’t really shaved with any sort of regularity in the past (it was sporadic at best; shaving is a pain in the ass) my leg hair is not appearing to stop growing. And unfortunately, the leg hair is out of control. Instead of lying nicely and smoothly on my legs, it stands up on end without a generous coating of Burt’s Bees body lotion.
It’s also alarmingly dark in color.
I don’t think I’ll ever get comfortable with the idea of not shaving under my arms, though. I don’t like hair there. As far as hair in other places, I prefer neat, tidy and trimmed.
See, here are my thoughts on the matter of body hair:
Most of the reason that I do not want to shave my legs at the present moment is because I am mad at the general idea that women should shave their legs because we should be smooth and hairless creatures. Where did this idea come from? It’s stupid and inconvenient and doesn’t make sense. So, I decided that if I shave my legs, it’s not going to be because I want to properly “look like a woman,” but because I prefer them hairless. This may or may not happen, I’m not sure. But for the time being, I’m content with my scraggly, dark leg hair.
Hair in other areas, well, I think both sexes should utilize some trimming once in a while, so I’m perfectly comfortable doing that.
Underarms, as I’ve already touched on, will still remain hairless, even though I like underarm hair on males.
So. Back to my new Rules On Life.
I also want to wean myself off the makeup dependency. I want it to be fun again, on random occasions, not a daily necessity that must occur before leaving the house. Now, I don’t wear much as it is; in fact, I’m very minimal when it comes to makeup. I wear a bit of under-eye concealer, because I have really dark circles under my eyes. I also wear mascara to make my lashes darker. That’s it for daily makeup. Anything else I’d wear would be for “fun” purposes, for events such as Halloween parties or going out somewhere where I wanted to present a little more dramatically. I do love thick, black eyeliner when the right occasion should present itself.
I don’t mind the way I look without mascara. That’s fine. It’s the under-eye concealer that I just can’t go without. I hate looking like I just woke up on a park bench after a weeklong affair with meth. It just doesn’t suit me. I did hear, however, that vitamin C will get rid of dark circles, so I am going to up my intake of citrus and all that good stuff that I never seem to bother with in hopes that I can get rid of them and not rely on makeup at all anymore.
I realize that while coming up with these grand rules on how to live a happy, chemical- and patriarchy-free life that I am a hypocrite on many levels, but that’s okay for now. I’ll be the image of absolute, enviable perfection soon enough; no reason to get impatient now.
I feel bad about my job these days. I didn’t really want to get back into call center banking, but really, for a college drop-out who wants to support herself, call centers really are the way to go. Not only do practically all of them start you at a livable wage (if you’re single, childless, and thrifty) but many offer fantastic advancement opportunities and tuition reimbursement. I tried this at Wells Fargo, but got too burnt out on the sales aspect.
Anyway.
I feel bad about my job because I talk to broke ass people all day long who obviously are not nearly as privileged as I have been, no matter how shitty I think the cards may have been dealt to me sometimes, who are living paycheck to paycheck and have several children, every other check card transaction is at a liquor store or casino ATM, and the majority of them don’t sound articulate or intelligent enough to have even gotten a high school diploma. The rare people that I talk to who are really intelligent and want to engage in some conversation about how shitty the economy is, how bad the state of affairs is in this world, why banks are immoral, unethical ass holes… well, there’s not much I can say in return without potentially setting myself up for disciplinary action on some level if I were to have one of those calls listened to by the Powers That Be.
I just keep my pie-in-the-sky dream that this is only temporary, that I’m just doing it long enough to write a book, get a grant to write more, and stop needing to work a day job.
As though it’d be that easy.
The older I get, the less tolerant of general society and its rules and expectations I end up being. You want me to answer phone calls today? Nah, I think I’ll go have a cigarette. Who are you? I owe you money, Giant Bank? I think I’ll pass on that and go get a beer.
This could be seen as “free-spirited” and “living life to its fullest,” or it could be seen as “irresponsible” and “disastrous.”
I am more inclined to believe the latter.
