To save money, I only go to the hairdressers when my hair so long I just can't stand it any more.
If I had known two Saturdays ago that my hair was going to fall out, I might have opted to save my $42.
It started happening a week ago this morning - handfuls just fell off my head while I was in the shower. I run a hand through what's left of my stylishly bobbed locks and it comes away full of limp strands. I get out of bed in the morning and the sheets are covered in wavy black lines. The floor looks like that of a busy hairdresser's.
I'm comforted by the stubble that has appeared in the place of the escaped hairs, so it is growing back. But it's surely going to take months.
I really don't know why this is happening to me. Is it because the day before, I had done my first dance class in probably two decades? And then took TLM and her friend for a hill walk later in the same day? Is it because my body is sugar-starved? (Not likely, despite my efforts to be sugar-free during the week). Or the result of two years of worrying incessantly about money? (But at long last the boy has got a contract and soon money will be flowing in - for a couple of months at least.)
My off-centre part is more like a broad, dried out riverbed.
When I dare to gaze in the mirror I am reminded of the wispy-haired bird-girl in TLM's book,"Eep".
Thankful that it's almost hat weather, I have spent Easter weekend with a knitted cloche practically glued to my head whenever it wasn't just the three of us. I like how it looks and all, but it isn't actually quite that cold enough to be wearing it indoors with the heater on.
Tomorrow I will try wearing a silk headscarf, gypsy-style. I will probably look ridiculous, but at least I can avoid sporting a comb-over.