Saturday, January 28, 2012

Grey matter

One of the purposes of a blog is surely to bring oneself back down to earth and force oneself to get a grip?

So herewith the confession: most days now, I spend some minutes in the downstairs loo, where the light is good, with the top of my head stuck towards the mirror, manipulating my hair into different parting positions in order to facilitate the optimum hunt for grey hairs. Which I then pluck out.

At a certain stage in the proceedings, I invariably realise that I have lapsed into furrowing my brow as I scour my hairline. I am aware that this, in turn, might cause wrinkles e'en more unsightly than the grey. So, for a while, I try to reposition my head so I can look at the top of it with a ripple free brow, which is quite difficult. I have a fairly rubbery forehead which breaks into furrows very easily.

After a while, this manipulation of head, neck and face hurts so much that I have to stop.

Here is how you can help: if you come to our house and find tweezers by the sink in the downstairs loo, you must feel free to notify me that you have seen them and that you know why they are there. This might, possibly, shame me into less absurd, and thoroughly un-feminist, habits.

Thank you.