![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Jan. 3rd, 2005 11:47 pmEarlier this afternoon, I decided that it was high time I took my gift certificates that I received for my birthday and Christmas to the mall and finally spend them. I had two MAC ones ($50 and $20) and one Torrid ($50). For the past couple of months, I have been desparately needing to hit MAC because I was out of a couple of key items and I've been wanting to start getting other make-up from them (it's like crack, I tell you), but didn't want to go to the mall during the holiday season because it's a mad house that time of the year. And Miss Robin told me that a Torrid had finally opened in this area and I wanted to check it out.
MAC was lovely, as usual. I stocked up on my essentials (though after coming home, I found out I bought both of them in the wrong shade) and bought five eyeshadows (one of which I mistakenly believed to be a light grey in the store turned out to be a light green at home). Torrid, however, was a bit of a washout. Some of the clothes in there caught my eye, but they were either the wrong colour or my size wasn't there. None of the shoes really piqued my interest and they didn't have any stripey stockings at the moment. Hoom. I'm just going to sit on the gift card for now and see what happens when the stock changes.
My car decided to help me celebrate this spending spree by blowing out the only working headlight. Glorious! I had to drive the twenty-five minute way home with my high beams on and was flashed by not one, but two cops. With their search light, which is apparently common practice.
I also needed to stop at the store and buy cigarettes, as I had exactly four of them left and that would not last me the rest of the night. After pulling into the parking lot, an employee shook her head at me and mouthed "We're closed" through my car window. Fucking hell. The closest other store is the local cop hang-out and I was not going to barrel up to that location with my high beams blaring. So, I got to the apartment building, let the Engineer out, and he drove to the store for my smokes. Ladies and gentlemen, the best boyfriend in the world.
Left to my own devices while he was running this errand for me, I once again examined my newly red-as-all-fucking-hell hair in the mirror. I'm really not quite sure if I'm entirely comfortable with it. Every since I dyed it, I've been feeling extremely uneasy and not happy with my appearance. I can't wear a lot of the make-up I already own and I'm certainly not going to go out and buy a bunch of shit just to match my goddamn hair colour.
It's a perfectly lovely colour and I do like how it looks, but I don't think it's for me. Because of all these misgivings, and perhaps this is the real reason for them, I'm beginning to feel the call of the blue-black again. But, I'm highly undecided. Red fades entirely too quickly, no matter what shade I use and tends to make me look pink-skinned. Maybe a deeper red instead? I'm not sure.
Five years ago, I wouldn't have thought twice about having nuclear red hair. Five years ago, however, I was a very different person. I've changed enormously in that span of time, some good and some bad. And I quite like the person I've become. The intensely coloured hair reminds me too much of the Tara I used to be and I didn't care for her all that much.
I don't know. Maybe I'm just being silly, putting all this stock and thought into the colour of my hair.
MAC was lovely, as usual. I stocked up on my essentials (though after coming home, I found out I bought both of them in the wrong shade) and bought five eyeshadows (one of which I mistakenly believed to be a light grey in the store turned out to be a light green at home). Torrid, however, was a bit of a washout. Some of the clothes in there caught my eye, but they were either the wrong colour or my size wasn't there. None of the shoes really piqued my interest and they didn't have any stripey stockings at the moment. Hoom. I'm just going to sit on the gift card for now and see what happens when the stock changes.
My car decided to help me celebrate this spending spree by blowing out the only working headlight. Glorious! I had to drive the twenty-five minute way home with my high beams on and was flashed by not one, but two cops. With their search light, which is apparently common practice.
I also needed to stop at the store and buy cigarettes, as I had exactly four of them left and that would not last me the rest of the night. After pulling into the parking lot, an employee shook her head at me and mouthed "We're closed" through my car window. Fucking hell. The closest other store is the local cop hang-out and I was not going to barrel up to that location with my high beams blaring. So, I got to the apartment building, let the Engineer out, and he drove to the store for my smokes. Ladies and gentlemen, the best boyfriend in the world.
Left to my own devices while he was running this errand for me, I once again examined my newly red-as-all-fucking-hell hair in the mirror. I'm really not quite sure if I'm entirely comfortable with it. Every since I dyed it, I've been feeling extremely uneasy and not happy with my appearance. I can't wear a lot of the make-up I already own and I'm certainly not going to go out and buy a bunch of shit just to match my goddamn hair colour.
It's a perfectly lovely colour and I do like how it looks, but I don't think it's for me. Because of all these misgivings, and perhaps this is the real reason for them, I'm beginning to feel the call of the blue-black again. But, I'm highly undecided. Red fades entirely too quickly, no matter what shade I use and tends to make me look pink-skinned. Maybe a deeper red instead? I'm not sure.
Five years ago, I wouldn't have thought twice about having nuclear red hair. Five years ago, however, I was a very different person. I've changed enormously in that span of time, some good and some bad. And I quite like the person I've become. The intensely coloured hair reminds me too much of the Tara I used to be and I didn't care for her all that much.
I don't know. Maybe I'm just being silly, putting all this stock and thought into the colour of my hair.
