1998 november 03

down to there hair

work is driving me absolutely batty at the moment, my body and my bra are in total disagreement and my officemate is singing aloud to heavy metal tunes. it is not a good day.

so let's talk about my hair!

my hair drives me to distraction, but truth be told, i adore it in all its wild curly craziness. most days it just looks a mess, but every once in a while all the elements conspire, along with various shampoos and grooming aids, to give me an absolutely stellar hair day. today is that day.

the curls are well defined and shiny, not helter skelter and frizzy. the bleached out bits from summer are catching the autumn sun in such a way as to illuminate my visage, the grown out bangs are framing my face like a museum portrait. all you breck girls, eat your heart out. are there breck girls anymore or is that a bygone icon of my youth?

of course, being claire and being totally neurotic, in the midst of glorying in the best hair day ever, i am filled with a vague discontent.

maybe i should cut it, it is getting rather long all of a sudden. this morning, while it was still wet and i was combing it out, i noticed that if it were straight, it would be down to the middle of my back; dry, it sits just above the curves of my breasts -- i lose something like six inches. i periodically get these urges to whack it all off, but i am afraid the curls will tighten up and i will look like a sheep. i barely make a passable girl, i don't think i would make a very nice looking sheep.

i could color it, but that is getting a little old. you can only work your way through so many shades of brown and red and black before they all get a little tired. besides, i am somewhat enchanted with the idea of seeing just how grey i am. my father was more than fifty percent grey by the time he was thirty and i have most definitely inherited his genes. judging my the glints of silver at my hairline, i think i may even be over that fifty percent mark. maybe i would look striking as a silverhead.

maybe i would just look old.

maybe i should just put on my headphones, let rem drown out the singing and get back to work, flipping my hair casually in the air so that it tumbles down my back in all its lustrous beauty, making the prematurely balding officemate from hell so jealous his teeth hurt.

hair today, who knows tomorrow, claire