I like to think that I’m a pretty girl. I don’t know if that’s vain or bigheaded or what – but I’m not going to pretend that I don’t. I mean, I know I have my moments (recently awoken from a nap, for example) that I’m not exactly hot. And I know that my whole teeny dark haired look doesn’t do it for a lot of men – I’m not exactly a playboy bunny. None the less, I am generally pleased when I look in the mirror.
For the past several months, that belief has been underlined by… well, by treatment that I receive. I have no sugar daddies, no one is giving me cars or diamonds, but I sometimes get free drinks at bars and appreciative looks while out and about. I’ve even (as recently as last week) been asked out by strangers.
That seems to be over.
Because I cut my hair.
Admittedly, I’m using a sample size of roughly 20 hours. And also admittedly, as long as one particular guy thinks I’m cute, I couldn’t give a flying fuck what the rest of them think.
But still. It’s just hair, people. A coworker actually just stood in my office and told me that he prefers women with long hair, so he wouldn’t comment on mine. Seriously? And my coffee shop buddy who regularly picks up my tab barely even looked at me. <sigh> Good thing I still think I’m cute.