It`s been 3 months now. And I am still abashed and peppery. Every damn time I see myself in the mirror I am confronted with THAT. „That“ is the sparse cluster of I`ll-go-wherever-I-like-today on my head. Yeeeeees, the hair.

What happened? Well…You know how every now and then somebody recommends you his/her stylist? And sometimes, just sometimes, you actually „try“ it? Yeees, I`ve done it. And now I look like somebody`s aunt who is fashionably stuck somewhere in the early 80s. And trust me, not the cool 80s, but the trashy ones. Hell, I`m sure you`ve been there. What do you do? What is the next move after this…this…disaster?

The answer is expected –   you spend next few months cursing, swearing, raising your hand in righteous anger towards the skies crying „WHY??????“. Of course, then the actions are followed by your creative side using the unfailing spring of imagination where you daydream of several well organized operations against the vicious stylist where you crash through the door, take the scissors and…and….do what you surely don`t do best! But then again, cutting hair is evidently not the strongest side of the mentioned stylist either. So you`re even!

But of course, nobody does that. No, you cry, use the improper words and that`s it. Then you take few deep breaths (one is just not enough) and harmonize with the situation. Face it – all you can do is wait to grow again. Or to completely change your style into something more practical. Which for lots of us is just not the option. (you know, us with the bushy curly hair which just have to have long hair, otherwise they look like the looniest representatives of the 70’s Afro look)

 

But in the meanwhile you may develop a brand new hobby called „I stare eagerly at other woman“. It is cheap, you can practise it almost anywhere, and your best half won`t be jealous, just perfect!

Now really, I do look at aaaaall women, and they are all fine to me. It doesn`t matter if you are 17 or 77, if you have nice long hair or at least a decent female haircut, you`ll se me admiring you. Yes you! Imagine this: you are walking down the street, minding your own  buisness, or having a cup of coffee carefully sipping it like a lady (or a truck driver, nevermind) and somewhere near you there will be someone sighing and saying „Aaaaaah, look at that hair! Beautiful!“ and you will walk away without knowing it. Someone will consider you gorgeous and you won`t have any idea of it. Yeah, yeah, I know what you`re thinking, but this is my new hobby and I am sticking to it! Or at least `till I don`t learn how to knit. Or do gobelins.

 

Seriously, the worst thing that happened is that 3 days after the Big mess I went with a friend of mine for a cup a coffee. I needed a a friendly shoulder and a tap on my back, so I slowly untied my hair, looked at her and asked „Well?“ and she said „Hmmmm…I don`t…hmmm…I would like to say something better but you look… you look… like a WOMAN!“. Damn! Not that, not The WOMAN! No, no, no, no, no, I would take granny, granny hair styles are romantic but the woman…Woman style is serious, woman style is rigid, it it…it is…boring and old. Nobody wants that.

 

So, in the meanwhile until it grows back again, I have decided to wear a ponytail. And I must say that it is a short one. Pretty short. Embarrassingly short.

And I don`t know what I would give to have a lush rich hairy crown on my head again. A kingdom? Hell yes! Hear, hear…a kingdom for a pony(tail)! A kingdom for a wild and primeval proclamation of freedom, strenght and sexuality! A female hair. This beautiful, so personal and unique, touch of feminality. Which must be treated as the crown jewel.

Because I (and everyone else) deserve it.

Or else…

 

 

 

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