Hot Mess [10.14.08]

Today was a sad day, for fall break was swiftly coming to a close. We packed up our things, cleaned out the beach house, and waved goodbye to Bethany Beach. Our drive home was one of reflection and relaxation. The radio was faint compared to our electrified drive just days before. The windows were down, inviting the refreshing breeze to wash across my face. It was a moment absent of inhibition. I sloppily pulled my hair into a loose bun and rested my arm on the open window. Sticking my hand out the window, my fingers naturally rode the wind. An hour or so later, we stopped at a local Applebee's for supper. We parked and rolled up the windows. After I shut my door, I glanced in the car window and saw the truth. The past hour was fully uninhibited, and thus my hair was completely unkempt. The last thing I wanted to do was enter a public place looking as disheveled as I did. I tried to do something - anything - but my friend insisted it looked fine. "You're a hot mess", she said. "At least that's what they say in band. They call it messy-sexy." I shrugged and decided to leave it be. What do I care?