Hello, boo. . .
It’s me — your significantly better other — again at that time of the week where I convey my loving thoughts to you in missile missive form. I have some thoughts I’d like to throw your way and, by ‘thoughts’, I refer to wholly democratic decisions taken solely by me, with me, and for me.
Ready? 🤷♀️
Well, today’s letter is about the very crucial matter of my coiffure (fancy word for ‘hair’ which you would do well to get used to, as I’d be using it a lot). Now, I know you’re attracted to my hair and want to touch it and play with it and stroke it and run your hands through it and all, but here are some key points you ought to take note of before you even have a chance to do all that.
Firstly, I love you: to settle down into boring monogamy for the rest of my life with one person, I don’t have much of a choice. True, there is the option of merely disliking you less than I do every other guy out there, but — somehow — I choose the harder option.
Sigh. 🤦♀️
As I was saying before rudely interrupting myself, I don’t hate you, but I just might if you ever — like ever — allude to the fact that you prefer my hair being anything but natural. If you dare ask me to permanently straighten hair, even as a joke, an itchy pox would be invoked on you and your family — never mind I’m very much a part of that family.
Also, I know I might grumble about my hair on occasion (er, quite often, actually) but always take the side of my hair during those infrequent times lest you be considered enemy No.1 in our quaint and peaceful household. During those periods, the following statements from you are completely banned:
“If it’s so difficult to handle, why don’t you simply perm or cut it?”
“You should go to the salon as it’s obvious you can’t handle it all by yourself.”
“Grumbling again? What has the poor hair done to you?”
On second thought, I might consider the last sentence because it would mean you’re siding with my mane (another nice synonym for ‘hair’) and you’ll be pardoned — maybe even smooched, if I’m in the mood! 😍
Finally, don’t dare complain about any cons my hair comes with, which may — or may not – include shedding strands of it everywhere (bed, floor, food, clothes, et al), committing a sizable chunk of the family budget to purchasing hair products (you’d be surprised how high and how quickly prices of such items can rise), as well as hoarding said products and giving you little to no space for your own relatively irrelevant grooming stuff.
We’re not done here, of course, as there’s even more coming your way next week. Till then…
Your wife-in-hell-waiting,
Nadia 😘
P.S. I’m convinced salons are redesigned modern torture chambers that were used during the Inquisition and I maintain a healthy, rational fear of them. Please respect that. Thank you.
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