All things old are new again.

So when I was a youngster my hair was white and dead straight. It used to hang limply down and I liked to wear it long. The old woman and shearing event was mentioned in an earlier post.

I would tie it up in all sorts of weird ways and had an array of ribbons. When I was at the convent and swimming like a maniac, back in the day when satin ribbons were satin, the green dye ran all into my hair and for the whole of the summer my hair looked like it was trying out for a St Paddy's day award. Yeh the nuns were less than pleased, but I liked it.

As was the fashion in the 70's I trooped off for my very first perm as soon as my scholarship money came in. My straight long white blonde hair became a mane of fabulous. My dad famously uttered, ' That's just how I knew it was gonna look and hoped it wouldn't.' He was not amused. But he also did not approve of me wearing a batik skirt tied up under my arms. No bra and only a tiny pair of knickers between me and the world. He'd call out a reminder that I was not going to the beach, as I flip flopped and sashayed my way outta the house.

So for 10 glorious years I kidded myself that I had a truly luscious crop of hair.

Then I dyed it, became single - not because of the dye, it fell out and I dyed it some more. Once you have been bald, you sort of get over the need to have swathes of the stuff, and whilst I happily cop to being a habitual hair abuser. I am aware that really one process at a time is more than enough.
(Generally a decent hairdresser won't double up anyway so no perms over colour over bleach.)

But as the poison will have it my hair is falling into the shower again - fuck it! and it's gotten pretty thin at the front, so I asked about a bit of a perm. We reconciled that the fucking stuff is falling out anyway so if it breaks off  no harm no foul.

And Yippee so far so good. It will loosen up a bit after I wash it tomorrow but I am thrilled with it. When I pop a hat on, there is enough of a barrier between me and the straw to prevent scratches, and somehow it feels like the hat is less likely to fly off into the never never.

Annbrit reckon that we might be able to have a bash at some colour in a couple of weeks but I am now wondering after decades of colouring, what my natural hair colour might be. It might turn out to be hideous, but nothing so serious that a bottle of dye won't fix it.

It seems appropriate to include a little snap of me and  this young woman who's birthday it is today. Happy Birthday darling Belly. xx

How much abuse do you put your tresses through?

Does the fear of baldness keep you awake at night?