Jealousy

Now, I try to not be a jealous person. Occasionally situations come up where I think I probably should be jealous, or could be jealous, and I consciously recognize that, and then remind myself whatever it is I need to in order to squash that jealousy (for instance, were my man talking to a beautiful woman who was all over him, I might think briefly that I should be jealous, and then I would remind myself that I completely and totally trust him, and then the problem is solved). But occasionally this plan doesn’t work.

Like earlier this week, when I was riding the bus to work behind some guy who had Gorgeous hair (emphasis on the capital “G”). I don’t know a single woman who wouldn’t have been jealous. It was slightly long, but not shaggy – perfectly cut, no split ends. Voluminous without being overwhelming. Full-bodied, a slight curl/wave, but not like mine. Thick, but not overly so. Brown and shiny (how do people get their hair so shiny? curly hair just doesn’t really do that – something about light particles refracting off the surface….). Oh my goodness. Now, I only saw the back of his head, and never caught his face, so he could have been completely hideous (though what a waste of a perfectly good head of hair). I almost had to sit on my hands to avoid touching it. (Not unlike when I sit on the bus behind the woman with all the split ends, and I really just want to turn to her and give her the advice to get a haircut, but I don’t, because, well, that kind of advice really isn’t welcome from strangers.)

Today’s History Lesson: on this day in 1954, “Sabrina” opened in theatres. (Courtesy of History.com, because I didn’t do any homework last night and couldn’t think of something on my own.)