Monday, 14 July 2014
"Did you put rollers to make your hair them curl like that?"
I realise belatedly that my colleague is talking to me and - oddly enough - my hair. I snap to attention.
"Er, no. They're just like this" I respond nonchalantly. I'd stopped thinking about my hair too much in the last two months.
"That's amazing!" The colleague in question has big, bodacious curls the width of a Cumberland sausage. I grab a handful of my hair and stare at the minuscule coils lying against my palm. I think about how they never stay together this diligently when they are loose and free to play "Eh. It's okay. They're a bit fuzzy at the moment....I don't know..."
Maybe the inability to take compliments is a weird faux modesty thing I was feeling that day because I usually just say 'Thank you!' and smile when get a compliment.
I had the feeling, however, that it was just an affirmation that I was coming to the end of my love affair with my current protective mini twist style.
Perhaps the fact that I had neglected to retwist any twists whatsoever for two whole weeks (at least!) was also another sign.
I've played various sports in them, washed them numerous time, gotten five job interviews and a new job(!) whilst wearing them, gone through a number of bank holidays and worn a ponytail more times than I would like to admit.
It's time to take these guys out.