Hair Angst

She played with the stray curl as she lifted the phone to her ear. The edge of the phone was cold against her temple and hairline. She sighed.

Growing it out was just the latest attempt to cover up what was really happening. She finished her call, lowered her phone and looked at her faint reflection in the screen.

She remembered 20 years ago. For that brief time, her hair finally was the crown on her head. Wavy, longer, and grays were just a nuisance back then.

She walked into the bathroom and set the phone down on the Corian countertop. She lifted back the curls and her scalp seemed to glow from the thinner base. The longer hair wasn’t working, but she hated to give up.

She heaved a heavy sigh. It had been a year since she started the journey. It was better than it was, but would likely never return to what she once had. She grabbed her phone, returned to the living room and flopped onto the sofa.

She looked over photos, and how she had changed. The best shots were with her hair shorter, so she relented. Scrolling through styles, she wanted something a little different, but most just looked to be a mess, or something she’d already done.

She rubbed her eyes. Nothing more to do tonight. She’ll take another look with fresh eyes tomorrow. Maybe she should just shave it all off, she thought as she headed to bed. That’ll teach her hair to misbehave, she snickered as she tucked herself in.

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