A Self Portrait...

17 September 2013

Hair Raising

I think I must confess that I'm having what might be called, and indeed what I have been known to call others:  A Bad Hair Day, and believe me when I tell you every capital letter is justified.

My hair is long, its also wavy, very defiantly wavy.  In an ideal world I would have a live in hairdresser, short of winning the lottery it ain't ever gonna happen, I must tolerate my hair as best I can and I do but not often with either a smile or anything that could be described as humour.

It is long.  It can't decide if it is gray, brown, near black or white and it arrived at this lack of decision all by itself.  Once I wanted to see what my natural colour, after so many years of bleach and other expensive whatnot, looked like.   Now I know it looks as indecisive as the rest of me.

Usually now that its long I can pin it up in a not unattractive pile and go off doing my thing with hardly a care. Not so today for some reason I can't get it into its pile.  I just can't.  Its down my back, around my shoulders and were it not for strategically placed hair pins in my eyes.

Such is my distress I am seriously considering a trip to the hairdressers but not today, today I have to meet a friend in town and by the time I'm finished trying to control my hair it will almost certainly be well past closing time and getting on for chucking out time in the pubs, that's if I don't chicken out altogether and hide in here for the rest of the millennium.

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