“Help me please! My hair is acting out!”
“What on earth are you shouting about?”
“I woke up today and my hair was yellow!”
“But yellow is always so nice and mellow!”
“Not when people walk by and whistle
the yellow submarine! That makes me bristle!”
“But at least your hair isn’t short and stiff!”
“Right now I really wish that it was! Then at least
it wouldn’t fall out and make me look like a beast!”
“On the other hand.. you have a whiff
of a most enchanting scent!
And your branches are toned, your trunk is tight
so even bark-naked you look just right!”
she blushed all red
it had all been said
so she quietly led
her sweet-talking beau
straight into her bed!
That’s right, I’m not kidding: I love my hair! More specifically, I love my hair’s all-natural color. I love the way it constantly, subtly changes; I love its sun-kissed highlights; I love its darker, contemplative winter moods. I also really love it like this: (because that is pure FUN!)
Allegedly the first grey hairs have made an appearance. I say ‘allegedly’ because I heard it from my hairdresser, but I couldn’t be bothered to take a closer look. Grey simply joins the cast of countless other hues on my head and plays its part in making my hair unique, impossible to replicate no matter how many top stylists were hired for the task.
Anyway, why mess with perfection? 😉
(Make no mistake here: I’m a tangled mess of insecurities and complexes. I simply choose to be merciful to myself, which means that I avoid looking into brightly lit mirrors. Quality of life largely depends on a soft-focus lens. (And every now and then a kaleidoscope!)