11 October 2012
Sweep after sweep, my head felt as dirty as the mop drenched in its own dirt. My back ached from bending so low, and so did my self confidence.
I was tired of the label 'maid' , 'servant', 'slave' of Daphne Dorris.
In my mind I was the Slave of no one but outside only weakness showed.
As I swept Daphne's daughter, Delois came toward me, brush in hand.
"After your done with that, make me my tea." She commanded. I nodded .
She stepped out to the terrace and started brushing her think, glossy mane. Each strand of brunette beauty would slide through the brush with the slightest ease.
The sun complimented her hair, giving it a delicate shine. Then she caught me staring. She grinned at me and then started brushing slower, softer.
She was mocking me. She knew! She knew that god had been cruel enough to curse me with cancer and its balding effects! She knew that the strawberry blonde hair was only the hair of plastic. Oh the way it sat on my head! Teasing and causing uncomfortableness throughout my bald scalp.
She knew!
And she stood there mocking me!
I needed to get my hair back. I needed to have hers.
Hair • Opuss № I