“What on earth is a widow’s peak?” I asked.
I got told.
No wonder I didn’t know. I’ve got no hair. What I do have is taken by a Grade 0.5 shave.
That said, the world has been in lockdown and I haven’t had a haircut for a while. A bit like my younger days, but with a few exceptions.
It has turned white. Not grey, but white.
But white is cool and it is better than grey.
Yes, there are some bald areas at the top of my head. But I’m not going out much.
I buy hair gel for the Zoom meetings and I have a cap for when I can get out for a walk.
The hair gel was cheap and red. I could have bought green or blue, but I went for red. How Jim Morrison ended up on the tub, I don’t know. I’m not sure, if he’s looking down on me, that he would be very happy about it.
But, I’m buying some cheap hair gel.
The best is yet to come.
“My hair has gone red.”
It must have been the hair gel. What shall I do?
“I’m going to carry on using the hair gel. Make my head go even more red. Then I’ll buy some blue gel and my hair will turn purple. This is great. It’s like I’m a young punk agan. This is going to be a great summer.”
Twenty four hours later, I hear that salons are open again. Another hour later, I’ve been and gone and had a grade 0.5 all over.
The reality is, I didn’t look like a young punk. I didn’t even look like an old punk. I looked like somebody who just really needed to have a good spruce up.
It’s strange to have no hair again to manage but it is nice to feel the wind.
I have aspirations.
I want to be a judge so that I can wear one of those big white wigs. It’s just a shame that I don’t care much for justice.
Pixabay
A freewrite, prompt by 
