Step away from the scissors, Dee Dee...

My new 30 gb iPod made its debut at my gym today. It was very exciting. I've had an iPod for a couple years now, but it was time for a new one. So my mom and dad bought me a new one for Christmas. That was pretty much all I got except for a stocking. A stocking to most people is just a few new pairs of socks and maybe a tube of chapstick. But not in my house; my mom stuffs a mean stocking. I got all kinds of new Bobbi Brown makeup and Aveda products. I've been addicted to Aveda for a few months now. I never used to be a person that paid any particular attention to what products she put in her hair. I woke up everyday looking pretty much the same, and I figured my hair was always going to be an ugly frizzy mess regardless of what shampoo or conditioner I used. Then someone gave me a gift card for spa services at my salon. Since I find nothing enjoyable about a complete stranger drizzling oil on my skin and kneading my muscles, I decided not to get a massage, and instead spend the gift card on the Aveda products that they sell at my salon. I bought Shampure shampoo and conditioner. Ever since then, I've been hooked. Every step of my beauty regiment now involves Aveda, which is quite costly but so worth it. Because of that, ever since I started using these products, I actually like my hair. I've hated my hair since I was a kid so this is really great progress for me. I remember begging my mom to let me get a perm when I was about 7-years-old. MY HAIR WAS CURLY, but I thought getting a perm would make my hair better somehow. Frankly, all I wanted to do was look better than Roberta and get a little attention from Frankie and Dominic. Then I went through a phase where I wanted to do everything Madonna did, including writhing around like a whore on a gondola in Venice, pleasuring myself on a stage in front of 60,000 fans, and getting my hair cut really, really short like the cut she sported in the Papa Don't Preach video. Well, my mom couldn't arrange for the 60,000 fans or the gondola, but she did take me to the "beauty shop" (that's what we called in my hometown that was heavily populated by Italians) and allow Dee Dee, my 'beautician', to attempt to make my hair look like the style you see at the top of this post. By the way, if you're picturing that scene in Goodfellas where Ray Liota's Jewish wife goes to the hair salon with all the Italian women, you are on the right track. Anyway, with my ultra thick, curly hair... well, let's just say the Papa Don't Preach look didn't take. I ended up with the beginnings of a pretty considerable mullet. This style rounded out the "Puerto Rican boy" look I inadvertently had back in the early 80s. The puffy mullet commented my perpetually tanned skin and inexplicably deep and raspy quite nicely. Add to that the thick Chicago accent I had at the time, and you had one girl who looked absolutely nothing like Madonna. Actually, now that I think about it, I looked a little like Joe Pesci in My Cousin Vinny. God, that was not a good stage for me. Anyway, I've come a long way since those days. I actually get compliments on my hair now, and not backhanded compliments like, "Wow. You're hair is really.... thick?" And even if I'm not your type of girl, there's no mistaking that I am, in fact, a girl. Not Joe Pesci. Not Al Capone, not the Puerto Rican kid from your 3rd grade class. Just a girl. And until Aveda comes out with a product that can make me look more like Roberta, I'll settle for that.