I have a wedding to attend this weekend that is causing me no amount of stress. I have finally found something to wear that is not drab or shapeless. I even went to the mall an act of desperation if ever there was one. But this epistle is not about my shopping woes or even about my lack of fashion sense. It is rather about my large head and even larger thatch of hair. I suppose I should be grateful that as I approach my dotage I approach it with a head of thick wiry hair and am not heading for a chrome dome. Said hair though has become an issue. The older I get the more uncontrollable it becomes.
"No problem " says the hairdresser and slaps dye on the tangle and thins it out. For a little while I am convinced that is the answer but I should know better. Six weeks later the stuff has turned me into an ambulatory haystack. Which makes me think of the Queen Mother. The press once referred to her as an "ambulatory Christmas tree!"(She liked all of her jewellery, also hats scarves... you get the picture. )
A hairdresser once told me that if I wore my hair too short I would look like a pea on a mountain. This was during one of my sojourns in the north of England. They tend to be a bit blunt. You may have noticed. Since then I have tried and tried to wear it long but all I look is a mess. Well enough is enough and the hair has had to go. Pea on a mountain or not at least I can see where I am going and can get a hat on my bonce when I need to. We are now back to what one offspring referred to as the George Clooney look. Ahh.. George! Now there is a head.
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I like when you get the George Clooney look! You don't look like a pea on a mountain. If anything it helps balance you out because if you have big hair on top of big shoulders you'd be top heavy. What do they know about hair up in the north of England anyway! Look at Coronation St. I have the same shoulder/wild hair genes, so I feel your pain.
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