We all have things to obsess about, of course. Old age is a bit of a thing for me, as I have just confessed, recently. But we all obsess about our hair just a little bit, don’t you think?Women might obsess a bit about their boobs and backsides (does my bum look big in this?) and men about some other personal measurements, but we all seem to hope that our hair might somehow disguise our other frailties. But ‘bad hair days’ leave us exposed to the world.
I was around in the sixties and seventies. Hair was important back then. I had lots of it. Long flowing blond curls. Did it help me through those difficult adolescent years? Probably not.
The handsomely weathered face that I hide behind here might suggest that I have an abundance of age defying follicles. But I don’t. Most of them deserted the sinking ship long ago.
Anyway …. Esther provided a five word challenge this morning on the subject (my morning, anyway, it might have been her evening. I’m on the bottom of the planet. Standing upside down from a northern hemisphere perspective. That may be what causes my hair to fall out) and I gave it a try. I may, as usual, have gone a little off script …. a few five word comments, all unhappily joined up together (that’s two more).
Here it is
Hair. Everywhere. It shouldn’t be
Don’t dare. Stare. At me
My naked head to see
So bare. Cold. Up there
Where it used to be