belated shots

Way back in August of last year I asked for "a big heaping shot of bad-ass please."

It's been well over a year since I made that humble request, and finally (I think) I may have gotten my wish. No, I didn't become mean, and tough or all of a sudden lose my mortifying shyness with strangers (which reads as just flat out bitchiness), but I did dye my hair black. Yup friends, apparently that's all it take to make me feel like I can do anything. Which is funny becuase it's not like I can feel that the hairs on my head are a different color, or that I spend so much time in front of the mirror that I am constantly reminded of my new coat of bad-ass. But some switch went off last weekend when I emerged from the kitchen sink with stained hands and ears and a head of inky hair. The switch that sends the signal to the brain saying, 'hey babe, it's your world.'

Damn straight it's my world. And I'll do what I damn well please. But not till this afternoon becuase my DNA samples, like my newly coiffed persona, wait for no man. Not even me.