Mother’s Day is always a difficult holiday for me. I will not go in to detail like I had originally intended as it gets far too personal; but I will say this:
I use to feel hatred in my heart; which I’m sure those of you who know me may find it hard to believe as I walk around with a cheeky smile on my face 99% of the time. I finally found a way to let that go in the strangest of places… In the form of a hair trimmer.
|Who I was....|
My Dad raised us; and I remember him brushing my curly hair to the point where I think my head went numb. =) Thick glasses, braces, mass amounts of freckles, and I even had all the static with no need for a balloon. Hand me downs were the norm, (I am a huge fan of thrift shops; although gaudy floral prints are no longer a part of my wardrobe). I’d come home from visitations with gobs of make up on and Dad would tell me to go wash it off right away because I was too young… and I was. Obviously, I got teased quite a bit and I’m pretty certain that this is the only picture I have left of myself that I hadn’t scribbled out of a year book with a permanent marker.
|Who I became.|
That drastic of a change affected me so much. It showed me how beauty creates a falsification in people’s minds that you are worthy of being treated nicely, whereas before they didn’t care a thing about my feelings. People who use to make jeers now wanted to be my friend. Boys began to notice me. My high school and college years were much easier than my earlier days, but I can’t say that they were any better. I feel that most of my real friends came from before that time.
Sorry for deceiving you folks; but I hope you’ll love me all the same. =)
Recent pictures too come soon… I've got the whole Tinkerbell thing going on right now. ;-)
|Getting ready... Focusing the camera.|
|Chop chop chop...|
|So that's what my natural hair color is!!!|
|Wig man and G.I. Danielle|
|The wig, thought by all to be a magical hair dresser's extensions.|
|When really, it's just plastic strands.|