Hair goddess in training?

I biffed it on the sidewalk today at the end of a walk with my dog.  Ironically I was trying to step around a patch of ice and it was when I accidentally stepped on another patch of ice that I fell.  While not fun, normally something like this wouldn’t bother me.  However, since I’m pregnant I immediately began to flash back to the scene from ‘Gone with the Wind’ where the pregnant Scarlett falls down the stairs and has a miscarriage.  I didn’t really think my own fall would have those consequences, but I did go through the next half of the day periodically poking at my belly to see if I could get some kind of reaction out of JC.  Finally when he was in the mood, he kicked around a little in there, and I took that as a sign that everything is okay.

Also today, J had his first meeting to talk about his transgenderism with the VA psychiatrist.  I helped him do his hair before he left in the morning:  a french twist with some long bits that I curled hanging loose in front.  I was pretty happy with the results.  Back when I had long hair myself I never knew quite what to do with it.  My hair when cropped into a bob above my chin is manageable, but when it gets much longer it starts to show its true personality:  stick-straight,  individually fine-textured, collectively thick and heavy, with a strong tendency to become static-filled.  J’s hair is very similar to my own, but there’s a lot to be said for the convenience of doing hair that is not stuck on your own head.  The job takes a lot less time and generally looks twice as good when it’s done.  Since J has begun to cross-dress in earnest, I’ve more or less become his private hairdresser.  It feels pretty good to suddenly be considered an expert.

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