To fringe or not to fringe
No, I’m not talking about the Edinburgh event which comprises of a slew of comedy and music events. Nor am I talking about the leaflet for Ascis Gel Kayano – whatever that actually is – which came through my door this morning and told me…well, I couldn’t really read the words. But I think one of them was ’fringe’. Then again, it could have been any other word, the handwriting was that awful.
So, as you must have guessed, I am talking about the hair-kind of fringe. The one that I can’t live without.
Except I am presently living without it…because, that’s right people…last Monday I took the bull by the horns. I got rid of my fringe.
Yes: I am now FRINGELESS!
Anyone who knows me will understand how big of a deal this actually is. I’ve had a fringe since I was about 12, and not having it is akin to having part of my body ripped off by farming machinery. Obviously it’s not quite that bad, of course, as at least I don’t lose any blood.
But I tell you…it felt like I had been cut deeply when the hair started to fall…the fringe fell in two sad pieces on the floor, and was promptly binned by the work experience boy.
I almost cried.
Who knows what the future holds. Maybe it’ll remain fringe-less, or maybe I will have to grow it back. I have no idea, but whatever it is I don’t think it can be anymore painful than what my fringe has already experienced.
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