Past due for a new 'do'...Bullet Hole Needs a Makeover!

There are some real 'girly girls' here at Killer Fiction. I'm not mentioning any names. They know who they are. These fashion mavens know just what to wear and when to wear it, how to accessorize without looking like a walking flea market, and instinctively know just what hairstyles suit them. I hate girly girls. Okay, so that may be a bit harsh. I don't really hate them (most of the time). In fact, I'm rather envious. You see, I have the glamour sense of Joan of Arc.

You've heard that song, I Was Country When Country Wasn't Cool? That described me throughout high school. Blue jeans. Cowboy boots. Even ruffled western shirts. Heck. My horse, Waco, didn't care if I looked like a feminized version of Roy Rogers.

All hope was not lost, however, as I headed off to college. College was where you 'found yourself'. Discovered who you were and developed an individualized style. Unfortunately, since the style was still blue jeans (this time paired with tennis shoes and t-shirts) I made very little progress towards finding that elusive style.

Next came the time period I refer to as the dark age of dress. My years as a state trooper. I loved the job--was so proud to wear that uniform. But at a time where I should be learning how to put outfits together in a way that didn't scream 'clueless!", it was all done for me. The only input I had was my bra, panties, and brand of white t-shirt. (J.C. Penney's carried the best quality white t-shirts, by the way--the collars didn't stretch out like the cheaper brands.)

And there were the hair and jewelry issues to contend with. As you can see, in the picture my hair touches my collar. A no-no on duty. So, I had to either wear my hair 'butch' short--(I looked like a boy the first year) or pull it up under my Smokey Bear hat and go around with 'flat top' whenever I took my hat off. Ultimately, however, 'flat top' won out over 'butch'. But with someone else dressing me for success each day, I had little opportunity to work on this important skill.

Next came my job as an investigator with the Attorney General's Office where I finally got to try my hand at putting together the complete package of a professional woman (sans brown shirt and gun belt accessories). And then I got pregnant and my clothes selections were limited to what I could purchase off the rack at Des Moines Tent and Awning. And so it went.

Then, I sold some books. And had to look like someone who wrote books. And be able to get up in front of people and talk about those books. And attend writing conferences and workshops. And--OMG--wear a formal dress! I'd worn two long dresses in my entire life up to this point. One, in high school where I dropped a meatball on the top of my off-white ruffle and it rolled down the length of my dress leaving a trail of red sauce in its wake. And two, my wedding dress. And we won't go there. So, the idea of actually picking out a formal dress and jewelry to go with it and actually wear the thing almost paralyzed me. Still, I managed (with the help of good friends) not to embarrass myself too much at those events that called for a bit of sophistication and some glamour. Okay, so glamour may be stretching it.

But lately I've been feeling like ol' Bullet Hole here needs a big change. Maybe it has to do the gray hair I can no longer get away with referring to as 'natural highlights'. Maybe it has to do with being sick to death of winter and wanting something to perk me up. Maybe it's because I'm just sick and tired of looking at the same face in the mirror day in, day out. So, I've decided I need a radical change. I've worn my hair the same way since--well, since that trooper photo was taken. I'm just a little apprehensive. Several years ago I tried this. I told the stylist I wanted something different. Exotic. I left looking like a zebra who'd done the fork in the toaster number. So not what I meant when I suggested something 'exotic'.

But that won't dissuade me. For my birthday next month, I'm giving myself a makeover. I'm determined to try something new and dramatic. Make a statement that says, Bullet Hole's breaking out of her funk!

I just need one thing from you guys.

PLEASE! FOR GOD'S SAKE! TALK ME OUT OF IT!

~Bullet Hole~