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The tilt that creates the sneer. Would suit a Pantomime Villain |
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Did you want proof? A hand big enough to blot out a keyboard |
Did you know hair grows at about half an inch a year? Depending on whether your hair’s thick or thin. “So what’s my hair?” I asked scissorswoman extraordinaire Shara. “O definitely thick,” she said. Unthinking I murmured, “Thick hair, thick head.” Shara’s immediate protests of sympathy told me I’d gone too far, as I often do. As various readers of Tone Deaf will confirm. “Blunt,” is Avus’s judgement and others, silent on the matter, would probably opt for something stronger. As this para proves I don’t stop at insulting others
These days, invalidism has immobilised the Robinsons and our social life – never much of a feature – is almost non-existent. Take away rare visits from relations and it would be zero. Thus, having my hair cut for socio-aesthetic reasons would be a waste of time. But the finger points warningly when my forelock brushes against my eyeball. Quite sickening.
In the next chair VR was receiving serious coiffeuresque attention, leaving me time to examine myself in a large mirror. Something I rarely do. Shaving doesn’t count since, then, I’m concentrating on not slashing myself to ribbons.
I noted that the 2021 mouth op left a downward tilt at the left-hand end of my lips. This makes me look entirely sackless. (Good word, that; should use it more.) As if I’m sneering at nothing. No doubt I deserve this late transformation.
But I also discovered my hands are disproportionately huge. I never knew. Two great bunches of bananas clearly devoid of any manual ability. The hands of a strangler? Nah. More the mitts of a self-taught burglar caught trying vainly to pick a lock. “I’m innocent, officer. There was no chance I would ever have succeeded.”
Others in the salon were being prettied. Me? “The before” before “The after”.
From the neck up, I don’t mind the mirror too much, having accepted the droopy skin and the blemishes that my doctor refers to as “the barnacles of life.” It is the section from the neck down to the waist that doesn’t bear inspection. I avoid gazing at that at all costs. If it were possible I would ban mirrors greater that 30 sq.cm in hotels where it seems to be impossible to move without having a reflected image imposed on oneself. As for my hands, they are quite small and were I Donald Trump I am sure that would be the cause of great consternation. I view it as a mark of my essential delicate nature. Think I’ll stick with that.
ReplyDeleteDMG: This would support the North American preference for showers rathers than baths ("Ugh, who'd want to marinade in their own juices.") Lying in a hot bath, one of the best non-medical/ non-alcoholic comforts in life, it's impossible to avoid inspection of those discouraging pink contours which threaten to blot out a view of the bath taps.
ReplyDeleteDelicate hands. Since your great interest ensures you spend a huge percentage of your waking hours staring through binocs precisely trained digits must be a blessed asset. The difference between being able to count the crest-feathers of greater unspotted dingbat and a rueful, rapidly diminishing sight of its backside as it makes for the horizon.
To say nothing of the exquisite details of Double-breasted Bed-Thrashers.
DeleteI started hair-cutting duties during Covid and since he hasn't got a great deal of hair and I haven't yet nicked his ears Himself is quite happy for me to continue. I cut my own fringe and about a couple of times a year get a bit lobbed off the ends at a hairdresser's. Since I don't wear my close-up glasses for the cut I can't see enough to get too dismayed!.
ReplyDeleteSo far as hands go, as long as they work, bend, stretch, grip, then it's good news. I have large, peasant hands like my father and his mother before him, and for that reason I like them. They do seize up on me from time to time and lock. Holding a newspaper for any length is problematic.
Anon: I didn't trust myself to cut VR's hair, and I'm fairly sure she didn't trust me to do it either, hence we went to my hairdresser who is out of town and offers nearby parking. Since the cut locks from my head were about 2 in. long it seemed four months must have elapsed since my last visit. I had thought to let it grow for ever but eventually the way it kept brushing against my eyeballs became so irritating I couldn't stand it any longer, In any case I enjoy chatting to Shara and her protests when I give her a monster tip on the basis that she'll never get rich from my custom.
ReplyDeleteMy hands were inherited from my paternal grandfather, a former Baptist minister, who obviously never did a stroke of work in his life, Rendered mute by a stroke at the end of his life he was prone to lifting his hands up and admiring them. There are many who would have said I had the hands I deserved since journalists can't claim to better anyone's life other than their own.
I read the newspaper over brunch, an engrained (ingrained?) habit. I hate the way the pages separate and bought myself a lengthy stapler to overcome this problem. I think VR sees this as being fussy.