Friday, September 28

Those were the good hairdays.

Sometimes a memory pops up from seemingly nowhere. Now I just remembered when I was in my 20's and had short red hair in a page with bangs. Me and my boyfriend at the time went into a second hand furniture store in the neighbourhood we were living in and the manager looked at me like I came from another planet and said something like:
- That was a nice one, looks a bit unnatural though.
While pointing at me.
My boyfriend and I absolutely did not understand what he was talking about, so he continued:
- It's a wig, right?
- Eeh, no.
- It's nothing to be ashamed of, lot of people have them.
My boyfriend became upset now:
- What are you talking about? It's her real hair.
- No, get out of here, it looks too perfect. Nobody has that perfect hair.

I don't know if he was serious, or was trying to offer a compliment that totally backfired, or if he in fact was insulting me or harassing me. Hard to tell so many years afterwards. Still, I was perfect. I had perfect hair that day. It was so perfect it looked like a wig.  Now, after having my hair pulled out by idiots who were dissapointed with my lack of sexual consent, its hardly perfect anymore. But it was, that day it was. I think it was the same day we bought those three legged Danish designer chairs, that my son finally got tired of and threw away. First we painted them purple and black, then after we separated I painted them jellow. So the designer value probably had dropped significantly anyway, but  there are collectors out there.


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