metanoia's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Don't judge me Can I use your brush, my son asked innocently. It was an impromptu sleep over and he didn't have any of his things with him. I hesitated. Not because my son has cooties or anything like that. No. I hesitated because my brush is very gnarly. It has eons of matted hair in it. I don't remember the last time I cleaned it. Hell, it even has hairs from when I "went red" a couple of years ago. heh So, when he asked that particular question, the voices in my brain began screeching at me - NOooooooooo! Don't let him see your hair brush! It's gnarly! He will think less of you! I wouldn't let my dog see this brush! AAAAgh. Old hairs on it - very old hairs! All the while he is looking at me wondering why I have not answered or even acknowledged his question. The voices continue: Tell him you don't let anybody use your brush. Tell him you don't have one. Tell him you can't find it. Don't let him see the brush. Decades pass as I am frozen in time and cannot address the situation. What if I don't say anything, maybe he will just walk away and forget this ever happend? I finally said OK, though. Actually I remember distinctly what I said. I said, "OK." then while handing him the brush I said simply, "Don't judge me." He looked at me like I was nuts, brushed his hair and handed it back to me without a word. 1:02 p.m. - 2003-11-05 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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