|taken by the lovely and talented Rachel|
This person informs me that I would look better if my hair were longer.
And I would be laughing, probably. Because the idea of me with long blonde hair is pretty comical. (No offense to the blondes out there.) So, normally, I would laugh at that thought. I would. If I weren't so pissed off.
You see, it bothers me when people seem to be under the impression that I wake up every morning with the goal of attaining their specific approval. I do not. It bothers me when people seem to be under the impression that their idea of appealing is the universal idea of appealing. It isn't. It also bothers me when people assume that their idea of anything is a matter of interest to me at all.
Because sometimes it just isn't.
So, hey. Bro. Just because your wife has long blonde hair and spends roughly three hours in front of a mirror every morning? Doesn't mean that every woman in the world needs to have long blonde hair and spend three hours in front of a mirror every morning.
I can't help the fact that I'm brunette. It just comes out of my head this way. In similar fashion to the way words I don't care about seem to spew forth from your mouth. I promise I dislike them a substantial amount more than you dislike my revolting, above-the-chin, brunette hair.