Day 186: A New Version Of You, A New Version Of Me

Does anybody else remember Felicity?

Yes, the neurotic, over-educated, and effortlessly charming WB11 heroine of the 1990’s. Keri Russell and her perfect ringlet curls.

Remember the episode where she cut off her beautiful, long hair and audiences went apeshit?

Well, if you don’t, I do. And, it was television mayhem. Who had Felicity become with this new, short do? What had she done? How dare she? Change? Why? Whhhhhhhy?

As I stood in front of my mirror after a particularly low day, red hair dye dripping down my neck and forehead, I’m pretty sure I knew exactly what Felicity was feeling that day. She was bored, lonely, fed up, and tired of being so effected by what other people said and did. So, she threw caution to the wind and said, “Fuck it!”

Well, that’s what I said anyway when I went a brighter shade of red since the fuckers at Clairol discontinued my fucking hair color. It was the final straw. Today, I needed a boost, and so did my hair. So, as I stood at Walgreen’s, searching the shelves for my color: Natural Instincts #29R, it should have come as no surprise to me that the kind woman in the cosmetics department would inform me that, “Well, they just stopped making that color!” Of course they fucking did.

Livid and already at my patience quota for the day, I told Clairol to fuck off. Yet another institution to add to my fourth step. I just walked my ass straight over to the Loréal Paris section. Love Apple #6RR. Bright fucking red. Nothing natural or instinctive about it. I threw the box in my basket and b-lined for the checkout.

Why this sudden need to change things up? Well, much like Felicity, I understand that when you can’t control the big things in life, or at least you’re making an effort to stop trying, it’s pretty radical to change the little stuff. I’m sober and different. Yet, there are still so many things that feel the same. Some days I just want my outsides to match my insides. It’s hard to reflect those little nuanced changes in your look. I don’t have a blouse, hoodie, or pair of jeans that just screams, “This bitch is on fire right now!”

So, I set my hair on fire, so to speak.

Felicity, I liked your fucking haircut. And, if I know you, I think you’d like my new, unnatural red hair. It looks great. And, much like your manic attempt to control the uncontrollable, I found it was well worth it.

So, here’s to us. A new version of you, and a new version of me.

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