(We're literally doing nothing today, so here.)
Ben let me shave his winter beard today. It's twelve degrees in the sun. It's the calm before the storm, I know it. I see it coming a mile away as we drop one by one from the flu, as the snow looms on the horizon line, just beyond the mountains, threatening to spill down past the highway, an avalanche of typical January weather anywhere else, a ridiculous unnecessary anomaly here. He's going to regret his bare cold face within days but within a week of not shaving again he'll have the start of a new disguise.
He already went for a haircut. I already decided I'm not cutting my hair in 2018. Not even once, which will be interesting as I have a pixie right now that needs a trim but also can be tousled just right thanks to the built-in heavy salt air, so it still looks cute as fuck.
Give it a couple months and I'm going to look like a maniac but I have an assortment of headbands, hats and bobby pins to wrestle it into some semblance of something and I'll leave it like that until it hits my waist again. I love cutting it all off but I miss it too. Desperately sometimes. It can be a perfect curtain of privacy anywhere I go and I've grown tired of strangers commenting (however sweetly) on my expressiveness, or my eye color or my smile, since that curtain of hair is gone.
(You would be surprised. I have one of those faces that goes from looking like I'm about to cry to the most joyous mirthful expression in the universe. It's...I mean, it's fun but it's exhausting to check my expression when I'm out so people don't ask if I'm okay. Or I'm smiling and they want in on the good news but it's something dumb, like the time I said I was going to be Pyramid Head for Halloween this coming year, from Silent Hill. The boys can be the sexy faceless nurses this time (I did that already). I'll go shirtless, wear culottes and a bloody apron, have a huge helmet on and carry a machete. Except Ben called it a 'mah-chette' with a hard ch sound and I laughed so hard coffee came out my nose. People wanted in on the laughter. It was dumb but I couldn't catch my breath long enough to even share it.)
So that's the plan.
I mean, that's the plan today but I'm just daydreaming. I want to eat pizza (without plates, straight from the box like they do in the movies), and watch the rest of Lucifer because it's so campy and profound all at once and I want to avoid Duncan just a little bit though if you offer someone Bridget, pizza and endless television Duncan just appears as if by magic, as he's one of the cuddliest laziest fuckers I've ever met.
I want to snooze but not miss anything. I want to still be able to touch a beard if I need to (PJ is willing, able and ready, or so he pointed out when Ben left for the haircut with the promise that upon his return I could give him an Amish chinstrap beard before shaving it all off. Actually once I did that he turned and made it into a weird pointy goatee and no way in hell was that staying but if you ask me? Between us he's the one with the expressive face, the striking dark eyes, the easy, subliminal half-smile, the perfect skin with no lines on it save for such faint ones around his eyes when he laughs.
That's the face people should comment on but Ben will turn away in a crowd so you're not sure it's actually him, or he'll duck beneath the edge of his jacket hood or the brim of his hat.
That's a shame.
He already went for a haircut. I already decided I'm not cutting my hair in 2018. Not even once, which will be interesting as I have a pixie right now that needs a trim but also can be tousled just right thanks to the built-in heavy salt air, so it still looks cute as fuck.
Give it a couple months and I'm going to look like a maniac but I have an assortment of headbands, hats and bobby pins to wrestle it into some semblance of something and I'll leave it like that until it hits my waist again. I love cutting it all off but I miss it too. Desperately sometimes. It can be a perfect curtain of privacy anywhere I go and I've grown tired of strangers commenting (however sweetly) on my expressiveness, or my eye color or my smile, since that curtain of hair is gone.
(You would be surprised. I have one of those faces that goes from looking like I'm about to cry to the most joyous mirthful expression in the universe. It's...I mean, it's fun but it's exhausting to check my expression when I'm out so people don't ask if I'm okay. Or I'm smiling and they want in on the good news but it's something dumb, like the time I said I was going to be Pyramid Head for Halloween this coming year, from Silent Hill. The boys can be the sexy faceless nurses this time (I did that already). I'll go shirtless, wear culottes and a bloody apron, have a huge helmet on and carry a machete. Except Ben called it a 'mah-chette' with a hard ch sound and I laughed so hard coffee came out my nose. People wanted in on the laughter. It was dumb but I couldn't catch my breath long enough to even share it.)
So that's the plan.
I mean, that's the plan today but I'm just daydreaming. I want to eat pizza (without plates, straight from the box like they do in the movies), and watch the rest of Lucifer because it's so campy and profound all at once and I want to avoid Duncan just a little bit though if you offer someone Bridget, pizza and endless television Duncan just appears as if by magic, as he's one of the cuddliest laziest fuckers I've ever met.
I want to snooze but not miss anything. I want to still be able to touch a beard if I need to (PJ is willing, able and ready, or so he pointed out when Ben left for the haircut with the promise that upon his return I could give him an Amish chinstrap beard before shaving it all off. Actually once I did that he turned and made it into a weird pointy goatee and no way in hell was that staying but if you ask me? Between us he's the one with the expressive face, the striking dark eyes, the easy, subliminal half-smile, the perfect skin with no lines on it save for such faint ones around his eyes when he laughs.
That's the face people should comment on but Ben will turn away in a crowd so you're not sure it's actually him, or he'll duck beneath the edge of his jacket hood or the brim of his hat.
That's a shame.