~ Jim Morrison Lives! ~

I’ve been enjoying my new haircut from Images Salon in Poolesville.  It’s breezy.  It’s fun.  It’s care-free.

I flattered myself that I resembled a heavier Marilyn Monroe, only brunette, and well, er, not so decomposed.

I’ve received several compliments on my new hair-do…though I always take them with a grain of salt.  I don’t know why it’s so hard to receive compliments.  I hand them out sincerely, so why do I doubt the sincerity of others’?

Upon greater reflection, maybe its because I know myself so well that I know all the imperfections and I simply assume that everyone else can see them too.  And I’m not just referring to the obvious:  the way one of my earlobes is at a different angle than the other, the way one of my nostrils is a different shape than the other, the way my skin is discolored from years of sun-damage, the way my feet are not only a manly size 11, but also a clown-like wide.

But also the not-so-obvious: The way I interrupt people mid-sentence, the way I talk too fast when I’m nervous, the way I talk too fast when I’m relaxed, the way I talk too fast when I’m sleeping, (…wait…maybe those belong in the obvious section)

Ok, so there isn’t a not-so-obvious section of imperfections for me.  They are all obvious.  That’s good, I’m like an open book.  What you see is what you get.  No surprises.  (Unless I have Taco Bell for dinner.  THEN you are in for surprises, I assure you.)

What the HECK was I talking about?  Oh yeah, the sincerity of people’s compliments as it pertained to my new hair-do. Well, I THOUGHT my hair had a Marilyn Monroe quality to it.  But, when I passed a mirror today, I had to stop because there, because staring straight back at me in disbelief, was none other than JIM MORRISON.  He lives!

No, wait.  Crap.  That’s me.

Oh great.  I look like Jim Morrison.  On a bad hair day.

Only less decomposed.

***sigh***