I've alluded to this topic before, but now I am about to whine in depth and with great verve.
I decided, waaaaay back in September of 2009, that I would let my bangs grow out. I did not think I would be struggling with this issue yet at this date, but here I am with identifiable bangs that come down to just under my lower lip. When I brush this mangy mass over my face, in order to see what progress I am making, I am struck thinking I look like a creature resembling something in "The Planet of the Apes". This has been (and is) a painfully slow process. Every six or seven weeks, when I visit my hair stylist, I tell her that I am not sure I can go any farther with this project. And then, there I am, once again at the next appointment, telling her the same thing.
My hair would be more useful, at the moment, attached to the end of a stick and being used to sweep the floor. Or, I could begin making my mother's favorite use for hair 'cuttings' - pin cushions. Mother made pin cushions constantly. I guess she couldn't stand to see anything go to waste, including hair clippings.
Perhaps the little bird who is nesting below our deck would like more additions to her nest. I'm sure my hair would make quite a comfy cushioning for the precious egg(s).
Hair. It is a curious necessity, isn't it? When we have hair, we are bothered when it does not cooperate. When we don't have hair, we are bothered - period.
This is a big, hairy deal.
Ancora imparo
