It’s started already

It’s 7.22 here in the land of nightmareish Mondays and it has already started. My grandmother has just come into my room and instead of saying “Did you sleep well” or “How’s your back”, she starts with “That’s permanent hair colour, how does it look? It’s a bit dark isn’t it…” as if I am a teenager who is colouring her hair to rebel against something rather than a 4-days-until-32 adult with a full-time job and a part-time degree. She doesn’t say this to anyone else. My mum colours her hair she doesn’t say “Oh, are you sure, but your hair is dark, why lighten it” or to my cousin when she gets yet another ill-advised (if I do say so myself) poodle perm “Why are you doing that, you’re hair is naturally straight”. I am sick of the big-bust blonde-hair analogies. Sure, in about a month or less I will be making an appointment at a hairdresser and getting it lightened (no doubt), but that is my business, and nothing at all to do with her. It’s my money (well, the banks actually) to waste or spend or save or whatever…and every time she says “oooh, that’s too dark” or “I don’t like it” I am just going to look at her as if to say “and your comments matter because your hair looks the same as it has done since before I was born so your opinion really counts where I am concerned”.

That is all…

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