The Inquisition

So, I'm waiting with baited breath for my family and friends to get here. I've been full of nervous energy all morning. The heater's going full bore, my room is as spotless as it's ever been. I feel like I'm showing my room, like I'm trying to make them buy into my happiness, make them realize that everything is okay.
Today is a stressful day for two reasons: 1. I got my hair cut incredibly short. 2. We're going shopping for bridesmaids' dresses. This wedding stuff is stressful enough when your maid of honor and your mother think you're going to hell. I have to go to a wedding shop where the people think my bridesmaids are actually my fiancee's bridesmaids because my fiancee didn't mention tell the salesgirl she was one of two brides in a same sex wedding ceremony. I guess I'll pretend I'm the wedding coordinator or something, unless Alyssa gets off of work in time.
I dislike having to explain myself every time I do something and I hate that I feel like I need to please my mom and sister when it comes to my hair. I love my little sister, but she's weird. She has double standards when it comes to her and me. I spent this morning digging through my drawers, trying to find the girliest shirt I own, because, God forbid, I look like a tomboy with my hair this short. I've had so many people come up to me and tell me that they really like my hair, people who have no obligation to lie to me and tell me that it looks good. I wish my family would just get over themselves. I'm pretty sure Michelle is going to gripe at me too. She also has weird standards at times.
I'm getting tenser as the time passes. I'm hungry and anxious. I feel like a 10 lbs of sausage stuffed into a 5lb casing because of the shirt I'm wearing. I'm sure they're going to complain about my weight and my hair and remind me that I'm not really getting married. I pray to God that there won't be any arguments or fights. If I'm lucky I'll find out that I've wound myself up for nothing.
We'll see how today goes.

Palmade

This is what my hair looks like when I try to spike it into a mohawk with palmade. I'm still trying to figure out how to do this doing your hair stuff.

New hair

So, this is my new hair. I really like it. My sister is livid with me. My mom is unhappy. Dad threatened to shave the dog and glue the hair to my head. Oh well.

Restart

Nothing is more aggravating then fighting with your sister because she threatens to beat you if you get your hair cut. First, she's younger than I am. Second, I'm 21 years old and not living in the same city she is. Third, it's my money. Fourth, it's my hair.
She has this unnatural fear that I'm going to turn into a man and, no matter how many times I assure her that I like my breasts and don't want a penis, she freaks out every time I do something she perceives as manly. She yells at me for not dressing girly enough and for not wearing makeup. I would like to point our that I've never, ever been girly. I've always been a tomboy. When I was five I threw a fit because my mom was making me wear a skirt to school. I've always liked jeans and tshirts and hats. I can count on one hand the number of times I've used makeup and they were all formal events. I haven't changed drastically in the last ten years. Ever since she found out I'm a lesbian, though, she freaks out of my tomboyishness. Worse than that, she accused me of doing things just to get attention. That hurt.
The truth is, I've always wanted a mohawk. I think they're cool. I like my hair shorter because I hate when it gets in my face and I hate having to pick it off of all of my clothes. I don't want to shave my head, so I figure a fauxhawk will be a nice compromise. If I look stupid, I look stupid, I'll wear a hat. If I look cool, more power to me. Either way, I've decided I'm getting my hair cut today. End of story. I'll post pictures when it's done.

Late night

She broke my heart last night, several times over. We're still getting married in May, as far as I know, but, God, she really broke my heart.