Another One Bites the Blonde

When I first moved to New York, I dreamt of being a go-go boy. Seriously. I told myself that if I ever had one of those bodies that was rock hard, I would get a super trendy haircut, maybe a piercing, an awkwardly placed yet meaningful tattoo, and then proudly strip down to my underwear and dance on bars for dollars.

Oh, and I would wear neon colored Nike high tops.

Thankfully for my parents' pride but not so much my body, I lack the dedication and drive it takes to successfully complete the necessary workout regimen for anybody to toss even a nickel my way. I continue to look like a hot dog that was cooked in the microwave but removed JUST before the skin popped.

You get it.

Then my 26th birthday came, and I thought of all the crazy things I had dreamed of doing in my early twenties. I decided that I needed to stop wasting my time reflecting on what could have been and start working on my reflection now.

Also, Michael Jackson's "Man in the Mirror" was on the radio, and I was FEELING. IT.

First I thought piercing, but my attached earlobes can't even pull off a hoop and my nipples are too flat. Then I thought tattoo, but my list of meaningful options included "dinosaur" and "Mickey Mouse."

I would have bought the high tops, but then I was like, "I'd need matching underwear, and then maybe a baseball cap, but my head is a weird size," and that snowballed for an hour before I said F*#@ IT. I knew what I had to do.

I got in my car, drove to Rudy's, and stripped.

Well, bleached. Rudy's is a hair salon (also a man who took me to dinner once, but pretended we were going to split it, so that ended.)

I must say, the new hair is exactly the right amount of social media attention I needed to make 26 feel worth it. As my notifications continue to pour in, I'm starting to peruse workout regimens. Maybe one day, I'll achieve my dream of dancing on bars for dollars.

Don't worry Mom. I still have to figure out what I can pierce first.

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TJB: Making It