Today despite the fabulous blue cold outside, I felt like a big fat lump. I’m none of those things, but I can still feel each one of them. It’s like gravity is pointing her finger at me and lowering everything a tone or two. I couldn’t find the right key to sing out my day, although I did, of course, make the effort. This lunchtime, after coffee and a small, very small, slice of lemon torte, ho hum, my gorgeous daughter-in-law and I popped into the hairdresser next door. I am ‘going’ grey which is pants in my opinion. Not the grey bit, but the ‘going’ bit. Why does everything take so long??
So, let’s pump up the pace and get this dinky little hair stylist to make it happen, to speed up the ageing process, at least, on my head. I sat there, trying to read the magazine text, but having left my specs at home, I was only able to see the models and you can imagine what that did for the ‘big fat lump’ syndrome. Every time I glanced up at ‘Ageing Mirror Face’ my head was just a little blu-er, but, you know, I didn’t care. You know that place where you are too sorry for yourself to care what happens next, as long as it isn’t more of what came before? Well, I was there.
An hour later, after an ash tone over completely bleached hair, I am looking like a silver star. As I walk back home, through the blue cold, turning gently and quietly to darkness, there is a bounce in my step and I smile to myself.
How extraordinary is this ordinary day!