When The Damn Emos were little girls, pretty blonde things, looking at their mummy in awe and amazement, I would do their hair every morning.
Moo with her dead straight naturally highlighted hair, usually in two ponytails or plaits.
Too with her waist length ringlets in either a high pony, with cascading curls around her face or in a fishtail.
not my child. I did a waaaaaaay better job. Of course.
And damn did it get knotty.
As you can imagine, two little girls and a mummy who is rather particular about her hair thankyouverymuch, meant that mornings would be quite hectic to get out the door looking fabulous on time.
So I could be a little short tempered.
I could be a little, oh some fucking wimpy little blonde girls would say, rough.
And those fucking wimps would be all ‘ow!’ and I would be all ‘rubbish’ and attack their hair with the brush while watching the clock.
And I may have rapped them over the head a couple of times every single day with the hairbrush.
Fast forward to today. When the Damn Emos tower over me, one with purple and back curly shoulder length hair, the other with long black and green hair teased to make her look like an eighties hair band.
And me with the Marbug sports injury shoulder thingy.
Meaning I cannot do my own hair and I have to rely on the kindness of others.
Others being those Damn Emos.
With memories like fucking elephants. Wearing black eyeliner.