I Want Doesn't Get

Remember what one's relatives used to bleat at one? 'I want doesn't get.' 'I don't want doesn't get!' I would, slightly hysterically, explode at them - laughter bulleting into their well-meaning attempts to turn me into a nice little lady. Well - I WANT HAIR! Nice hair. Not I've-just-been-kidnapped-and-made-to-join-some-strange-and-super-Spartan-army hair. I want it all - I want it all - I want it all - and I want to now. Unfortunately - it isn't going to happen like that. Even if I were to be utterly utterly utterly good for weeks and weeks and weeks growing my hair back (to my satisfaction) would take a while. Fortunately - I have been very very very good. I have, today, only pulled my hair out a couple of times. That is EXTREMELY good so far as I am concerned. And thus I have recorded it. So that I can look back - when the year is up - on this blog - and say: Yes, I've been good sometimes. I don't want to record ONLY the worst of times. I don't want the blog to be one long wail. I am feeling quite positive about it all today. That is possibly because I have been in rather a good mood in general today. It is possibly because I have bought myself a new pair of (pink!) shoes - yes, I am that shallow. It is possibly because I am buoyed up on the bubble of half a bottle of good wine and a fair amount of whiskey. And nourished - nourished heartily - with steak and caramalised carrots and suchlike - by a chap who disinterestedly is happy to feed me simply because he loves me - hopelessly in a very literal sense - and because people fainting of hunger all over the place because they would rather buy shoes than food would be disconcerting for the world at large. My point is this - I am lucky and spoiled and talented and not-bad-looking. What in God's name have I got to mooch around about? So I shouldn't. It's not fair on me or anyone else. I'm going to damn well be brilliant, or damn well be damned, and my hair is a part of that. KEEP CALM & CARRY ON and all that jazz.