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[personal profile] vampyrichamster
Yesterday, we bleached my hair. For about 24 hours, I looked like Ichi the Killer. It made me feel a bit odd, like I was an extra stylish Asian trying to look blonde. More or less, I was a little terrified of catching myself in a mirror. That was corrected this afternoon, when we got everything on my head purple, maybe many shades of purple, depending on how well the light and dark bits take. It's all still freshly washed, so we can't really tell how everything looks yet. My fringe seems to be a brighter eggplant than the rest, at least. The spouse has been an absolute treasure throughout this process, volunteering and dabbing my head with bleach, after carefully slathering my ears with Vaseline. The cats supervised. Dorian wanted to help, but I think there might be laws against turning my cat purple. I resisted the urge to uncover my shower cap and smother Sif in my purple-soaked hair all afternoon.

For the longest while, I was quite happy with standard Asian black hair. When turning one's hair brown was popular, I refused to go with it. My mother got into it to cover her greys, and would often berate me for being out of touch with fashion in every way, including my hair. I just couldn't see myself in the scarlet-amber shades. I have long liked nice dark blues and purples, and silvers and whites. Unfortunately, I couldn't see that going well with me walking down the streets of Kuala Lumpur. I get enough trouble from over-eager cab drivers there about my ethnicity. That, and I'm very honestly not sure about how I look with light hair in general. My skin tone is way too brown.

I thought about baking cookies while the bleach was working. Seth talked me against it, something about poisons in my hair. I suspect there will be much baking over the next few days. Or, I will walk into Knead and just buy enough pastries to last me through the weekend, in a gluttonous smorgasbord of custard tarts and orange madeleines. It will be a treat if that happens. I may just not leave the house from sheer inertia. They gave away miniature wedding cakes for Pride, which I missed. The gesture sounded awesome though.

At my last weighing, I am apparently 109 pounds. I have never been over 100 pounds in my life. Four years ago, I was sticking to around 89. I would have thought, since I eat very little on normal work days, often forgetting meals entirely, my weight wouldn't have risen particularly widely. On most days, I get about one full meal in, usually dinner. Not on purpose, mind you -- there's often too much to do, so meals are late. Over the course of our week-long holiday for July 4th, I've done a little better. Not great, but better. I even managed to make a nice dinner for us on Tuesday, with bribery gristle from our steaks for Food Inspector Cat. Both cats seem to actually be calmer when I am barefoot and in the kitchen. Sif is generally calm when I am calm. Dorian just likes me in the kitchen, provided I am cooking. It amuses me greatly to watch him follow Seth's chopsticks while he eats, a compliment to my food.

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