It's not my head, really, it's my hair. Cute on my manga, not on the real me, now an official une femme d'un certain age.
My hair is a window into my state of mind--a direct link from my head to my hair and right now my hair is a mess! It's way way too long, and shaggy and yucky. That means my life is not in order, either at work or at home. I've got to reassert some order, and soon. When my hair is back in shape, I can regain my equilibrium. Yucky hair is a sign that I have temporarily lost the mandate of heaven (yes, I do think of myself as an empress of a dynasty---that's another post)
Today is the day. I will either shave my head a la Britney Spears, or I will get the charming and gifted Tiffany to come my aid. I'm hoping for Tiffany, but I'm prepared to pick up the shaver-thing if I need to.
I'll keep you posted . . . .
Trust Your Style: A Manifesto Of Sorts - I sometimes get grief online for wearing black as often as I do, and perhaps on a purely objective level…
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