Ok there is a great line in the movie 'Steel Magnolias', which goes something like, 'Time is marching on and then you notice that is marching all over your face.'
And without sitting and watching the movie again to get it word perfect, I reckon you can get the idea. But I am not too concerned about the march across my face, though I do reckon a bit of botox wouldn't be a bad thing. It's the damage time does to your hair that really gives me the screaming irrits.
I am trying to grow mine a bit long so that I can change things up from time to time, and it certainly is growing long, but sadly it's the only part of me that is getting any thinner.
I don't doubt that the mega doses of bleach used to achieve the colour of my youth, is not doing it any favours, but I am certain that my little plaits at school were far far thicker than these rather sad wormy offerings. Oh the white blonde crown has never been abundant, but before the tresses started to fall or break off there was a hand full sufficiency.
So does it make you wonder where all that bloody hair goes? I know I spend time picking it out of the shower drains - one of my very least favourite hurl making jobs, and maybe it morphs into old man nose and ear hair. Who really knows.
What I do find interesting looking at these 2 pics is that I no longer worry if my ears poke out too far, so maybe with the loss of hair comes the loss of give a shits and that cannot be a bad thing.
I admit that the makeup-less selfies doing the rounds for cancer awareness got me thinking about all this and then when I took the photo, I had to go looking for this school pic from 1975.
While I was looking I did not find my hair.