My hair was not the first thing I thought about first thing today. Rather, when I woke up this morning on the sofa, snout to nose with my weary little hound, I thought about his breathing. I checked his nose to make sure it wet (it was) and that his heart was strongly beating.
Most days, I wake up and think about my hair. Firstly, I check to see that my sleep cap is still on. Despite Jim’s pleas, "Take it all off!," I like that it’s soft and cozy. Then I feel around for bristles (still there), and sometimes I run my finger across my moustache. Some days hair loss can affect my mood, and I tend towards melancholy. Today however, there wasn’t time to worry about looking like Telly Savalas, or even Tom Selleck, there were more important things than me.
|Thorny rosebush, for kids|
And then there's Jim. As a partner to an me, he gets pushed so far onto the back burner that his tiny arse is constantly aflame. Not only has he had to relinquish control of the thermostat (“I’m hot. Turn it off”) but the fridge has been invaded by mountains of frozen foods, and acres of leafy greens. But today is not about me. I’ll continue to make efforts for my overall health, but the hair is a fait accompli. It’ gone (almost) and I’ve got a replacement, so it’s high time I find a new way to kick start the morning. For now Jed has pushed me out of the spotlight, and that push will lead to a better day.