Balance
I have to go to the hairdresser,” I thought at the beginning of the course, and I didn’t go. I started with long hair and ended in the same way (halfway down the road I made a mohín and cut a piece of it. Nobody noticed. Neither do I.) It hides me if I lack the gesture and, above all, I don't have to worry about what takes me away, what gives me, so what I would lose if I cut it off. I'm no more attractive, but I'm no less attractive, on all fronts that attract you, or the opposite. Without the need to moderate a new change, the challenges would be sufficient to maintain the balance.
The shower drain is clogged every two days, then the water accumulates and the entire bathroom is covered under the door. I've been in the middle of the winter with wet hair, because you can't dry well if you want to get somewhere in time, and in addition to preparing yourself, you have to get a child to prepare, and if you don't want to get up too soon (as you lie down). The dryer stopped trying in February. I had to start frustrating news. Before I start, I put my head wrapped in a towel, release my hair and wet my clothes all dressed. I get into the food. When I remove my jersey pulls my hair. The life that had made me come from such balanced decisions had made me shut up, and since I have not gone to the hairdresser I now have shorter hair strands in the place of the clear, gray, with the curly tip (to see better), that give me the shape of the witches of the films. I was shown the ones that look like cat hair balls in the washing machine when I clean the sheets. Mine.
It made me graceful for the first time when I felt my eyebrow, and I laughed at my troubled parents. They were appearing more and more quickly, but they didn't go away. I do treatment once a week, with insecticism. On the first day, I felt the first distant itching, and I scratched and scratched, the poison that smelled detergent hurt me, I was wounded. I now yearn for weekly pain relief: I prefer pain. I started feeling the pimples. I looked on the Internet to see if lice, with enough time, make receptacles to lay eggs under the skin; or the Goibi stores, me, this divine rag, can speculate with doses of insecticide until it brings the weekly supply. Now I have a itch not only in my head, but throughout my body, and I scratch and get pimples (I've looked on the Internet to see if the lice can spread throughout my body). I never saw a single bug.
Now, some shorter hair strands, some irregular haircuts, lice, lice eggs, pimples and blood -- I'm embarrassed to go to the hairdresser. Because you'll ask me there what I'm being asked everywhere. “But, dear, how not before…”. Before. Yes, no! Love me for something else! But where. What I will have to compensate for in order to maintain balance. Or don't love me. Three summer months. Heat. Go to the hairdresser. And so I don’t…
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