He and I have gotten into watching movies together. Sometimes I swear that we pay for 250 cable TV channels and still there is nothing to watch. And... it does seem like that sometimes. It is particularly an issue in this part of the year when football season has ended and baseball season is yet to begin. Over the last few weeks, we've watched both the Bourne Identity and the Bourne Ultimatum. Neither of those are going to ever qualify as top drawer theater, but they are fun, and they do have some entertainment value.
I feel like I am coming back to life these days. That survival thing has finally begun to recede, and along with it, the "survival look" is starting to let go as well. For me, the "survival look" grew out of a belief that it mattered not at all what I looked like. He was going to be angry and bitter and resentful and just plain mean ... no matter what. Why bother with all that girly stuff when no one cared anyway? Passing through the hell we all endured, I stopped doing the things that were once just part of my normal routine. I quit shaving my legs and underarms on any sort of regular basis -- especially in the winter. No one sees the fur, so why bother? I moved to wearing very prosaic, very plain clothing. My school wardrobe is very practical: slacks and sweaters. Nothing flashy, and definitely nothing "sexy." Weekends and evenings? I've gotten into leggings and sweatshirts. Yeah. Not awful, but not alluring either. For years, I colored my hair; tending toward strawberry blondes and fairly subtle red shades. But that, too, has fallen away. I've just let my hair be its natural color -- a dingy mix of dull brown and even duller gray. I have even gotten into "cutting" my hair myself; trimming my bangs with a pair of scissors and using an electric clipper to keep the sides cut short. Not attractive, but functional and cheap.
And then ...
So, thing 1 plus thing 2 added up to my own "Bourne Woman" transformation. After all, I already have the short-cropped thing going on, and a decent haircut by someone who actually is trained and knows how to do that gave me the impetus to go ahead and try out the darker color, too. It felt sort of daring and a little risky. I'm not at risk of being shot at by some unknown spy agency, but I do have to appear in front of a host of people who are between 11 and 14 years old. Talk about a "tough" audience!