I hated that she smoked. I hated that when she did my hair everyone at her place was smoking and the smoke made me feel sick because I'm super allergic and sensitive to it, (probably because my Mom was such a heavy smoker when I was a kid, pack and a half a day, smoked in the car when she drove me anywhere, with the windows closed, and I was forever car sick), but I feel sorry for smokers because I know they are as addicted to it, or worse, as I am to fatty, sugary, carby foods, and even though I know it is incredibly bad for all of us, I don't like to see anyone being persecuted so I leave them alone. I always feel like who the hell am I to say word one to a friend who smokes about their smoking when I've spent years walking around with a hundred extra pounds of heart attack or stroke strapped to my body. And I held my Mother's hand through her ordeal with lung cancer and she made it, was incredibly lucky, and now Sonia. Her poor son, her poor friends. God damnit, she was so cool and so young for her age. She was, she was such a cool gal. I admired her and wanted to be like her.
I changed my icon so you can see what I looked like with her amazing dreads. I don't look like this anymore so I don't use these pictures, but I never felt as good about myself, as free, or as much like my inner me as I did when she did my hair.
Oh man I wish I could call Ana and cry on her shoulder but it's too late at night. You know I try to reign in my swearing a little bit here because I know it offends people but really, Fuck, Shit, Piss, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck and God Damnit. I loved her.
