“Today’s the day”.
That was yesterday’s pronouncement to Himself as I showed him a handful of my hair.
By mid-morning he was suggesting that we go for a walk around the block so I could feel the wind in my hair for the last time. He’s funny like that. It was a good idea, although the Saturday morning joggers and serious walkers thought we must have been joking, given our cracking pace.
It took me until late in the afternoon to present the clippers to the officially designated barber. He declared we needed scissors first, and thus it was until the clippers came into play and the last vestiges of my locks were decorating the backyard sitting area.
How did it go?
It actually feels quite light. I’m relieved that my skull hasn’t revealed any previously unknown bumps and lumps. I’m also pleasantly surprised there are still patches of what might be called colour.
Within a few days, the spiky feel will disappear. In the meantime, sans headgear I’m seriously starting to channel Sinead O’Connor.