Pulling Hairs

Referring, of course, to standing in the bathroom and pulling out grey hair. I’ve had strands here and there since my twenties, but now it’s irritating me. I hate my hair (see Hair Saga below), and I’ve been very depressed because it’s becoming impossible to maintain my weight. Until my thirties, I was always very thin, even after having Morgaine. Gained a little weight in my early thirties, which was the start of a landslide. I look in the mirror now, and I feel like Edina from AbFab. Not Patsy, which would be ok – definitely Edina. At what point do you suddenly realise that you’re just a middleaged tart?

The hair saga refers to the terribly bad haircut that I’ve been trying to grow out for two years. Never wander into a “No Appointment Necessary” hair salon. There may be an escaped mental patient there, waiting with scissors in hand. Trust me in this. I stopped her after the first snip, but I still had hair that was less than an inch long in places. I was in hysterics, as I thought that I would be forced to cut it all off short, but my (normal) hairstylist suggested just masking it with a perm. Ok, it worked…but now I’m trying to grow the perm out, and I hate it. I need to get it cut.

I’m whining. Oh, well…at least it’s Friday. :) Dinner tonight, hopefully edible, and then out for a drink. Or two. Have a WONDERFUL weekend.

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