On a Lighter Note...

There was a period following the death of my beloved BuHsi where I wore all these HUGE sunglasses (the pair shown were, I believe, a 75 cent Salvation Army special) because I cried all the time, and I didn't give a rats' ass about how I looked, so my hair suffered greatly.  (Yes, it actually suffered - it cried itself to sleep at nights and tried to commit suicide on several occasions).  Michael, thinking that it would be nice to remind me of the progress I'm making, sent me this with this note:  "You look better now.  Doesn't that make you happy?"

Yes.  Well...

I like that it looks like I have a mustache and have just bitten into a deep-fried turd...

The self-dyed hair is interesting, too...

To be honest, it DOES make me feel better.  Remembering how bad it was makes today seem less...lethal somehow...

Baby steps?  Not yet, I'm still crawling, but...I'm trying, I'm trying...