Wednesday, 28 November 2012

The Return of the Dizzy Blonde Blogger

About a month ago I decided to dye my hair red – nothing overly dramatic just a wash in/ wash out colour but it did last 6 – 8 washes.

As with any sudden change I wondered at first if I really liked it and by the time I decided yes I did it had pretty much washed out.

I joked that with red hair I was far more capable of making sensible decisions and that I wouldn’t have so many “blonde” moments. But now I’m back to being blonde with a smattering of silvery grey and I easily slip into the role of ditsy Friend, I like to think I am a “Phoebe” sort of character and it was confirmed recently by a straw poll on my Facebook page. 

I’ve always had the ability to laugh at myself, or at least it is a trait I have comfortably developed over time. Maybe it originally came from being picked on at school, for standing up straight and talking posh, something my mother always insisted on. Where once it made me frustrated I now revel in it, I’m not totally joking when I say I only watch the BBC so I don’t have to watch those annoying little adverts. I love using BIG complicated words and if people laugh at me they are leaving someone else alone. I am very happy to be a caricature of my own created persona.

My brain was quietly mulling over these thoughts about stereotypes and characteristics, planning my blog post, when on Saturday morning I woke up to the sad news on the radio that Larry Hagman had died. JR Ewing was the meanest man on TV in the early eighties and when he got shot even my dad had a T-shirt proclaiming he had done the dastardly deed!

Watching Dallas was a family event in our house, although by the end of its original run I had given up with the plot – along with the programme makers I suspect – shower scene, goodness me Dr Who is more believable!

However I rejoiced to see Dallas back on our TV screens this year and have thrown myself into the make believe Texas oil scene, a pinch of nostalgia mixed in with pure escapism and the leading men are hotter than ever!

 *blushes ever so slightly* 

Good grief - I am almost old enough to be John Ross’s young auntie!

 But it is an excellent excuse to add a photo!

Another thought bubbling in my brain at the moment is the annual task of writing the nativity script. I like to get all the kids together and come up with a plan for telling the story that they feel they have some ownership of.

So I have all these thoughts and characters in my head, from dizzy blondes to feisty tycoons, from inventive teenagers who want to include a dance off in the nativity to the quiet ones who just want to fade into the background. 

It is interesting seeing their differing confidence levels, some like to be funny and show off, others relish getting their teeth into the meatier more challenging roles. Some struggle to be heard maybe others think they are not worth listening to… they are so young and unsure of their place in the grand scheme of things.

I love to write a nativity that suits each child, merging the person they are with the character they choose to be!

A friend of mine was joking the other day that she wants to be the crazy cat lady when she grows up.

We laughed but really we are hiding behind labels we give ourselves so we don’t have to face the labels the world tries to pin on us.

The one I try hard to avoid is the WIDOW label, particularly at this time of the year. I don’t want that W word to define me, I think I may have written this before, probably more than once. Although oddly I still use it on my Twitter profile ... that’s something I have to ponder! 

For the 16 years before Andrew died I like being defined his wife for a girl who never had a proper boyfriend before Andrew came along and took a fancy to me it was an important definition. A recognition that I was valued, loved and special.

A wife without a husband is an strange entity.

Here’s a quote I found this evening from a new book by Mark Driscoll “Who Do You Think You Are?  Finding your true identity in Christ”

When we suffer, we can easily allow our hurt to become our identity.

I have posted this quote and a couple of others on my Twitter account in the hope of winning a copy of the book! I think I need to read it.

Maybe without intention I have allowed my widowed status to take more precedence than I ever intended it to. It’s funny but when I started this post I wasn’t sure this was where it would end up.

Once more I feel I have wittered on merely travelling round in circles.

Perhaps it is time for a bit of personal reinvention? A new title?

In the meantime I will once more embrace the Dizzy Blonde moniker, until the next bottle of hair colour catches my eye and I have time to craft 160 characters into a new Twitter profile statement!

Found this on a friend's Facebook page today too and although the picture definitely isn't ME the words just seem to fit, it really is time to move on...

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