Standing among the commuter ranks this morning at the train station, everyone respectful of the established pecking order (huddles of people gather at strategic points on the platform where experience has taught them a train door will eventually stop) and just a couple of renegades like myself lolling about nowhere in particular, I wasn't in the mood to read as I would normally do. Instead I was content today to stare into the middle distance and sip my coffee happy to know that I had made it to the end of my first week at work without any issues at all whatsoever despite the fear and loathing that had preceded this happy state of affairs.
Having spent the previous day at an all day, off-site planning meeting (are you still awake? good) I was mind floating and then I half heartedly noticed how shiny and sleek the hair of one of the ladies on the platform was. Then I noticed how well conditioned another woman's barnet was. Slowly lots of shiny heads of hair came into focus and I wondered how it was they managed this given Canada's extreme weather conditions; My own crowning glory not having come through winter unscathed. As these sleek curtains of hair swept into view I started to feel slightly dishevelled until I noticed one lady whose hair was less than perfect (and it wasn't my reflection).
I started to size her up (terrible, I know). How am I like her? She was probably about 8-10 years older than me, not old by any means but you know...getting up there. She dressed well, not frumpy, hip but not 'mutton dressed as lamb' either (I believe the phrase here is 'like a cougar'.) Pretty lady who hadn't just fallen out of bed but wasn't quite as shiny. So I'm asking myself, what's missing? because if I can figure that out then I've solved my own problem. She's definitely not using shop's own brand conditioner. And then I saw it. A little piece of sticker on the back of her jeans; not an actual sticker but a piece of the sticky paper around the sticker that normally stays on the backing paper. She had the tiniest piece on one of her jean legs - instantly recognizable to those in the know. The mist lifted and I smiled.
Carefully, so as not to arouse suspicion I checked myself for signs of my 'other' life - the one where I'm knee deep in yoghurt, spaghetti, chocolate milk, stickers and finger paint and I smiled again. I would be insane to give up that time in favour of a more thorough beauty routine and I realised there was more beauty in what that sticker represented than in all the hair sheen in the world.
Next time I see a woman with haystack hair, I will remind myself that chances are this is a woman who has her priorities in order.
Having spent the previous day at an all day, off-site planning meeting (are you still awake? good) I was mind floating and then I half heartedly noticed how shiny and sleek the hair of one of the ladies on the platform was. Then I noticed how well conditioned another woman's barnet was. Slowly lots of shiny heads of hair came into focus and I wondered how it was they managed this given Canada's extreme weather conditions; My own crowning glory not having come through winter unscathed. As these sleek curtains of hair swept into view I started to feel slightly dishevelled until I noticed one lady whose hair was less than perfect (and it wasn't my reflection).
I started to size her up (terrible, I know). How am I like her? She was probably about 8-10 years older than me, not old by any means but you know...getting up there. She dressed well, not frumpy, hip but not 'mutton dressed as lamb' either (I believe the phrase here is 'like a cougar'.) Pretty lady who hadn't just fallen out of bed but wasn't quite as shiny. So I'm asking myself, what's missing? because if I can figure that out then I've solved my own problem. She's definitely not using shop's own brand conditioner. And then I saw it. A little piece of sticker on the back of her jeans; not an actual sticker but a piece of the sticky paper around the sticker that normally stays on the backing paper. She had the tiniest piece on one of her jean legs - instantly recognizable to those in the know. The mist lifted and I smiled.
Carefully, so as not to arouse suspicion I checked myself for signs of my 'other' life - the one where I'm knee deep in yoghurt, spaghetti, chocolate milk, stickers and finger paint and I smiled again. I would be insane to give up that time in favour of a more thorough beauty routine and I realised there was more beauty in what that sticker represented than in all the hair sheen in the world.
Next time I see a woman with haystack hair, I will remind myself that chances are this is a woman who has her priorities in order.
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