Once upon a time, I found a grey hair. It would defy gravity and stick up and wave at me in the mirror, brutally resistant to hairspray, gel or superglue to keep it in check. This stubbornness was a new concept considering every other hair on my head was fine and skull clinging despite all my attempts to create that elusive 'volume'. Why was it that I would spend hours on trying to create a little height, a little air space between my brown fine hair and my scalp and yet I would also spend hours trying to reduce the air space of this one solitary grey hair?
Actually, not grey. White. brilliant white. Of course it is white, given that every other hair on my head is dark brown.
Oh, I look back on those hours of tending to that one white hair fondly. I long for that one white hair. Actually it's still there but now indistinguishable from all the other white hairs.
There comes a time when instead of trying to straighten each hair, tease it into submission or just pluck it out (we've all done it so don't give me that look), I just reach for the bottle. No not that bottle, the other bottle. The one marked permanent, with promises of soft tumbling curls and flicking silkiness just because you change it's colour.
Except those stubborn gravity defying hairs, are still stubborn and gravity defying. Just a slightly different shade of annoying.
Joining in with The Gallery and the theme of Colour at Sticky Fingers.