HAIR!

I was reading my very first entry to this blog (god it feels ages
back even though it isn't) I was raving about my hair. I really
miss having hair-I'm not myself with a short cut. I whinged so
much on the phone that Ruth turned up at Alan's door (much
to his dismay) carrying bags full of extensions.
"I thought this might shut you the fuck up." She mumbled, also
avoiding Alan's eye. Shortly he said:
"Well I think I'll leave you ladies to it." I hoped he wasn't going
to the pub to drown his sorrows. Though he probably was.
For the next five (yeah 5) hours Ruth worked on my hair, it
bloody hurt and I had a tension headache. I grumbled and
groaned like a bag-lady, Ruth hit me repeatedly on the head
until I stopped. When she was finished I looked in the mirror
and saw:
1./The troll queen
2./Chewbacca
3./Diana Ross (In the chain reaction video)
4./myself fully restored and gorgeous!
Ok-it was a combination of 2 and 4, I was happy, I had hair,
though it was not quite my hair.
It was good enough for me though-I kissed Ruth's feet happily.
"Get off you big queer fool! I only did it because I was sick and
tired of you looking like Rent-A-Dyke."
"I feel like a princess!" I gushed, easing my waist length hair
through my fingers, so silky.
"Hey this feels like real hair." So realistic on account:
"It is human hair, you doof!" Said Ruth:"From India or Russia,
whatever, they don't want it, you got it, who cares?"
"I bloody do! Maybe they did want their hair? Ever thought
about that?" I was faintly horrified (though not horrified enough
to cut it all off again).
"If they did, then they did, bit late now to worry about it. But
your happy with it?"
"Love it." I admitted shamefully, I definitely tell Alan it was
synthetic.
"I'll just trim off a bit, looks too long." Said Ruth.
"No! I want it all!" I'd only just got it.
"Sit down!" She barked and trimmed it anyway, had to admit
it looked much more believable. We ate the remains of the Indian
meal we had ordered and then Ruth got a cab home. What a star
she was!
I wondered what Alan would think of my new look. Then rather
shamefully I imagined Master Skinner tying me up with my own
hair. Oooh!
Becka