Nice to have you hair, uh, I mean here.
I thought your arrival would spawn a burning hate in my heart, but, eh. I have to admit, I kind of like you.
You're both spunky and wiry, and totally unruly. Who wouldn't want to spend all their time getting tangled up with you?
You don't show up every day, which is comforting and unnerving at the same time. How many of you are really hiding in there?
And just exactly how many friends have you invited to the party? Will they be showing up soon, or will these arrivals be staggered?
I need to know. I have to know how much punch to make. You know. Dark, shiny, permeating, permanent punch.
The two of you are on opposite sides of my head. Are you in cahoots? Or blissfully unaware of one another? I'd always kind of assumed you grew up together.
Is it possible you might be familiar with your next of kin? You know, that insanely large posse on my YOUNGER sister's head?
Oh, and was it me that brought you out, what with this whole 30th year of life deal?
Or was it my children? Always with the breaking and the tearing and the destroying, and the growing?
Somehow I get the feeling this is just the beginning, so maybe we should just get past all this 'getting to know you' business and just be friends already.
A little bonding, perhaps? Maybe a girls night? No painful plucking, I promise, but you do look like you could use a little makeover. Maybe some color on that pale little facade?
Think about it. Absorb it. Let me know.
Spell it out in the mirror or something. When you get long enough.
Just don't show up in my ear or on my chin, ok?
Your partner in condition,
P.S. In the mean time, would you mind telling everybody else up there to chill? Enough with the frizz already. There's a lot of you and you all want to be seen, I get it. Please, just wait your turn, you'll get your chance. The Great Tease is coming.
Everybody talks to their hair, right? RIGHT? Not just me?
If your hair would listen to you, just this once, what would you say?