This could have been me 20 years ago. I had this much hair and I wore it like this with jewelled combs and I dyed it bright Titian red. I loved my hair when I went red, I felt as though I had become the real me. No more now, still red, I mean I couldn't do that to myself but as I walked to the home I detoured through the hairdresser's I've been passing for the last four years.
Nice bloke, nearly choked when he asked how long since I'd had a cut and I said 1975. He kept asking if I was sure I wanted to do this before the scissors went to work.
It was time. The last 4 years of stress, medications and ageing has taken its toll of the long and once lustrous locks. I was finding it harder and harder to colour, wash and bung the whole lot in rollers. If I didn't do the rollers, it was 'Sideshow Bob' all the way.
He did ask if I wanted the ponytail to take with me. Lordy no, it looked dead, lifeless, ratty as though a kid had had enough of luxury Barbie and decided to become a shearer for the day.
I thought I might have some regrets but not a jot, I'm starting a new life albeit in the same old fat body but the hair feels just right.
Mother approved, said I looked younger.