My hair color gives me away before I even open my mouth.*
Thinking this makes me feel immediately better. Maybe if I package all of my fears into little short sentences I can hide them under the bed of this Ibis hotel and forget about the fact that I am still not even at the half way mark.
Here I am in Toulouse, with a suitcase I can’t lift and mascara that won’t stop running.
Take me home. Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeease.
*French people, besides never straightening their hair, also never dye it blonde. and there are very few natural blondes here.