>So, I never really got around to blogging about this but I shaved my head. Back in June. I had been colouring it black for awhile and was just plain tired of it….tired of the money spent, the environmental damage, the having to go to the hairdressers (note: I hate going to hair salons at the best of times – it’s the mindless chatter…I can’t STAND the mindless chatter. And when you are having your hair cut, coloured AND blow dried, it means you’re going to be at that salon for a good couple of hours. That means two hours or so of “So are you married? Do you have any kids? you know, I think Posh Spice is just fantastic! Have you heard what happened to Britney? It’s such a shame isn’t it? blah diddy blah blah. And don’t try and tell me that I could just not talk back because I can’t, alright? I’m just not capable). Anyways, all of this added up to me thinking I want short hair again. Which led me to think, huh, maybe I could raise some money for having short hair. Which led me to begin a little fundraising campaign, which raised about $1300 for ovarian cancer research. Yay me.

So it’s growing back now, as hair will do. It’s about half an inch long. And today, I went into a public washroom at Chapters and there was this girl in there with her mum. And she, the girl, was staring at me. I mean really staring at me, to the point where I thought “I wonder if this kid has a problem or if I’m wearing my bra on the outside of my shirt”. Looking down to check, I conclude this kid has a problem. Then the kid says loudly “Mummy!! What’s a BOY doing in OUR washroom!!?”. And do you know what her mum says? “I. Don’t. Know.”

You don’t know? YOU don’t know?

It’s not even that I’m insulted by this (my ego is bruised but, having lived and worked with supermodel-esque women for most of my adult life, I’m used to this by now). It’s that I don’t understand. Did this woman really think that I was a boy? A boy with C-cup breasts? Really? And if she did think so, why didn’t she say something to me? Something like “um, excuse me but I think you’re in the wrong loo” to which I could have responded with “um, excuse me but I’m a girl hence the purse, mascara, and (annoyingly) visible bra-strap” (note: when WILL they make a bra that works for people with little to no space between shoulder and boobage?). Does she just accept the idea of men wondering into the women’s loo? And if she didn’t think that I was a boy, why didn’t she explain to her inquiring offspring that some women choose to wear their hair short? Would it have been that difficult to have this earth-shattering conversation? I mean, it’s not like the kid asked where babies come from or what a lesbian is or something (I get a twisted joy out of watching parents squirm and search for baby-proofed, dumbed-down answers to these sorts of questions). Now the kid goes on thinking that all girls have long hair and all boys have short hair. She probably also thinks that all girls love to cook and sew and that all boys love trucks and building things.

Argh.