A couple of months ago, my truck decided to stage a coup.  It got together with my laptop and cell phone and said, "Hey!  Guys!  Let's start falling apart, k?"

I had to call Tony the Mechanic, and Tony the Mechanic had to get one of his guys to come and pick my truck up from school and so began my approximately $1200 odyssey into making my truck better ... er, betterish.  It is, after all, a 13 year old truck. 

So, there I was, in the mechanics after being dropped off by one of my teammates, and the lobby area was loaded with testosterone. Men every where.  One of them, covered in dirt and grime from the day, was being interviewed by another man in a suit.  Turns out, The Suit was a life insurance salesman and was doing his level best to sell the Grimy Dude a policy.  From the conversation, I garnered the following bits of information:
  1. Grimy Dude was about my age.
  2. Grimy Dude had a wife, and they'd been married a while ... like 12 or 15 years or so ...
  3. Grimy Dude worked for a local landscaping company.
Here's the thing, Grimy Dude was a good-looking dude, in a rugged, grimy kinda way.  I noticed this, appreciated him silently, then pulled out my Kindle and decided to start reading. The life insurance salesman's car was ready, Grimy Dude promised he'd call if, after talking to his wife, they decided to do purchase the policy.  I looked up, realized Grimy Dude was watching me, smiled, and then returned to my book.

All was quiet for a while.  It wasn't too long, however, that I realized Grimy Dude had continued to watch me. Out of no where, he said to me, "So, I think short hair on women is sexy."


I looked up and glanced between him and the Paunchy Married Dude sitting on the other side of me.  In my mind, Grimy Dude had to be talking to the other guy, even though, when I looked over at Paunchy Married Dude, he had a look of "Oh LAWD!  Help me get out of this situation like NOW!"

It was then I realized that Grimy Dude was addressing me.  I smiled, determined to accept the compliment without questioning it.  I thanked him and attempted to return to my book.  Only, Grimy Dude wasn't done with his expository speech on the positives of sexy short hair styles.

"Yeah, there's some guys out there that don't like it.  Wished their ladies had long, luscious locks, but I don't think so.  Short hair is soooooo sexy.  Really.  I really like yours too."

I thanked him, and mercifully, Tony the Mechanic, came in and told Grimy Dude his car was ready. 

This did not, in any way, deter Grimy Dude!  He stands up, walks right over to me, and says, "My name is Steve.  You are?"


"Well, Megan, never change that hair.  I'm telling you.  There are guys like me that just love that short hair {and at this point he practically growls}.  If anyone ever tells you to grow it out, you just tell him no.  Seriously.  Nice meeting you and stay good-looking."

Not going to lie.  It was flattering.  I have spent the better part of this past school year feeling fat (and being fat), and not really feeling very good about myself.  So, this guy's adoration over my short hair really gave me the shot of ego I needed.  Only, he was married, and man!  If he'd been my husband, I'd have been crushed that he was saying this to someone other than me.

Well, ladies and gentlemen, I saw him the other day at Kroger ... with his wife ... and guess what?  She doesn't have short hair.  In fact, that complete opposite....long, stringy stuff.  The look on his face was priceless too!

This leads me to much pondering ...
  1. Grimy Dude needs a swift kick in the butt.  I get it.  Marriage for the long haul can get boring, but DUDE!  If you aren't building your wife up (and she does the same), how can you expect the sparks to fly?
  2. Why is it I ALWAYS attract the weirdos and married dudes?
  3. Why, and this is the root of much of my issues, can't I see myself the way others do?  Why is it so hard for me to envision myself as anything other than dumpy?  Is it possible that I could be sexy?
Something definitely to ponder ... while I'm mowing ... the job that puts me in the LEAST sexy light ever ... what with all that sweat dripping off my short, platinum locks. 

Wait!  That's why Hairy Man used to come out of his house to watch me mow!  I get it now! 



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