Wednesday, December 29, 2010


Yesterday before going to the doctor’s one went and got a much needed haircut and colour. It was needed because not only was one looking, but feeling a little ragged round the edges. Besides if one couldn’t sit there for a couple of hours, then one figured going to work today was not a good idea... actually still not sure it is but... Getting a haircut is the most normal thing in the world, but round here it takes on that whole rabbit hole effect. Between Him and the hairdresser is one small slave.

Left to one’s own devices it would more likely be short and these days probably its natural colour which is not salt n pepper, but black and silver. Thankfully one is not taking after Father in that respect; he went the most god awful gunmetal grey and is only now going the family silver. Personally one started going silver in ones early 20’s. Looking up in an enormous mirror of a very posh hotel, while cleaning the teeth, one spotted the first interloper.

It made one realise that one had failed in what had always been ones main aim in life... to die young. In that moment one realised that one would actually have to commit to the process of becoming an adult.  Peter Pan was about to get little wooden clogs. The whole experience was depressing, just not for the reason of going silver. Anyway back to hair...

He likes it longer while she loves to do experimental colours; though they both like the deep violet reds she always returns to. So He drops one off... secure in the knowledge that she knows his preferences. Often when she is finished she grabs the hair with enough force to snap your head, and she smirks and says well there is enough for Him to grab hold of. Sighs everyone is a freaking comedian.

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