The Hair Meets the End of the Line

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This post is dedicated to and inspired by Hippie Cahier who wrote, “What’s Next?”.

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If I am in a public place, I will find a spot where I can be discrete. Then, I will do whatever it takes to locate the hair that is brushing against my arm, tickling my stomach, or moving up and down with every blink of my eye.

Strands of my hair seem to fall out on a regular basis. When the strands get caught in my shirts, skirts, bras, eye lashes, etc., I will not rest until I can locate the irritant and remove it. If it means I have to pull off my shirt to locate the sucker, I will.

After reading Hippieā€™s most recent post, I came to a realization. Actually, I had the realization months ago, but her post (and the hair caught in my shirt) created the perfect metaphor for me. Continue reading