A Good Spanking

Brushing my hair makes me cry sometimes, because it’s just me and the mirror, and nothing to hide behind except maybe my hand. But then I can read the fine print of my palm, the ancient lines I’m too young to have, so really I’m not hiding at all. I sit on the toilet and I stare at myself, at the mirror cutting me in half, pretending my hair doesn’t stop at my breasts, but keeps going down, down, down until I can almost feel it round my waist. I sit there and I brush it and I wonder, again, how princesses gave their tresses one hundred strokes of the brush before bed, when I need only a dozen. Then I remember that I am not a princess. And the only thing of mine that needs a hundred strokes a day is my ego. I touch my hair and it is limp and sad and dry and dirty. I am not a princess. And the only real use of the damn brush is for a good spanking.

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I drink, I laugh, I smoke, I write.

4 thoughts on “A Good Spanking”

  1. Hey. Well, for all its worth, what your needs is a good shampoo and a better conditioner. Perspectives sometimes look better after we wash our hair.

    Wonder what your hair color is.

  2. Isn’t it crazy the power that good (or bad) hair wields over us all? There have been times it’s gotten me so down- unfortunately my hair, like me, is moody.

    Thinking of changing its colour soon. Maybe you should do something dramatic too!

  3. Powerful. (Again!)

    This is such a universal female experience. I’m just waiting for the day when our gender learns to look in the mirror and see all the beautiful parts staring back. And I’m not just talking about the physical aspects. I’m talking about all of the crystal-clear loveliness inside each and every of us.

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