This is the only photo where my bangs weren't a complete failure.
(Pictured are Rod and Scott, my hosts when I stay in Toronto.)
My bangs had a mind of their own. They never stayed in place. I bought hair goop and reclaimed the use of my curling iron. I whipped out my hairdryer. I think I even had mousse. I even hit the snooze button less often in order to go another round with my hair.
All dismal failures.
No matter how much I tried to move my hair in one direction, it always came back to where it started. (I wonder if this is a metaphor for my pending world travels.) After too many mornings of frazzlement and sleep deprivation, I threw up my hands in surrender and threw my hair back in a hairband to await the awkward growing-out phase.
It's like sitting shiva. But longer.
This whole episode with the bangs taught me that I'm not the type of girl who should have bangs and I'm definitely not the type of girl that should have high-maintenance hair.
Sometimes it takes a bad hairdo to truly know who you are.
I bring this up because I'm currently making decisions on what clothes and items to take with me on my pending world tour. I already heaved a few bags of office clothes at the donation door of my local thrift store. The office clothes had the stank of status meetings and office coffee. Blech. What's left are a few sundresses and pajamas. And that doth not a wardrobe make... unless you go to Hawaii, which I did last week, and it worked out pretty well.
I went shopping the other day with a girlfriend. We were on a mission to find me the perfect travel clothes.
Another dismal failure.
After too many shops and changing rooms, I threw up my hands in surrender. Everything seemed either too fancy or too casual or too wrinkle-prone. Will I be dining in fancy restaurants? Will I be hiking a lot? If so, in what climate? Will I be over-dressed or under-dressed? Cold or hot?
What am I going to do about boots?
I just don't know. I don't know because I'm not sure where I'll be at what time of the year, and I especially don't know what kind of person I'm about to become so I don't know how to dress the part. Up until I recently, I was defined largely by who I was in the world. I worked in an office. I wore office clothes. That's what I looked like.
This is all gonna be great for processing and self-reflection in my journal. Me and my friggin' identity.
I suppose the plan should be to pack light and dress as myself. Lucky for me, I've already got (some) of the wardrobe for that. I'll figure out the rest when I get there... wherever that might be.