There was this thing written that I had gone into a candle store, and my hair went up in flames because of all the hair spray. First of all, I never have hair spray in my hair, and I've never even heard of this store, and my hair has never been burne...
Eric lifted the long lock of hair that he dyed a different vibrant color every forty-nine days without fail and stared at it. His memory had served him correctly. It was currently cobalt blue—the exact same shade as the under-layer of her hair. Wha...
I had a dream about you. You were eating angel hair pasta with scissors, and I was a long-haired hippy. I yelled, “Eating pasta with scissors—a not so subtle way to say I need a haircut.” To which you replied, “Well I would have used silverwa...
My Country I don't have any caps left made back home Nor any shoes that trod your roads I've worn out your last shirt quite long ago It was of Sile cloth Now you only remain in the whiteness of my hair Intact in my heart Now you only remain in the wh...
I totally think there was a country hair phase. If you look at all the mullets, and Dolly Parton, and Reba's hair, Tim McGraw's hair, Blake Shelton's hair, they definitely had their moments.
A rack of mugs rested alongside. There were two hand-drawn labels affixed to the decanters. “Happy Tea!” read one, above a drawing of a wide-eyed, grinning Human with frizzy hair standing on end. “Boring Tea,” read the other. The Human drawn ...
What is good hair? It can be anything to anyone. Good hair is healthy hair, whatever you perceive that to be.
I just blow-dry my hair and put on mascara and lip gloss, and I'm ready to go. I really don't get long nails. They're so Edward Scissorhands.
Long hair is a security blanket for me. I cut it short a few years ago and I really never want to do that again. When I do cut it, I cut it myself.
My entire life had been this long, pressured conversation about the family I represented. 'When you walk out the door, you represent us. You have to dress well and make sure your hair is combed.'
When I'm bored or tired of being blonde, I'll throw on a wig. It's a lot less of a permanent way to change your look, and I have about 10 - all different colors, shapes, bobs, long hair, short, feathered.
My hair used to be real long, and my parents were encouraged when I cut it. They thought I was going 'straight,' but I was just getting weirder - at least in their eyes. I was getting into the punk thing.
For a long time, I dressed like an idiot. In college, I had a fully shaved head with just two horns. Like, a coxcomb of hair that I would sculpt into two horns. I looked like a crazy person.
I'll have long, straight hair, like down to my back, when I go to Heaven. And I'm not even going to work out, but I'll be in shape. It's a whole new program up there.
You know, I just tend to grow my beard out for 'Parks and Rec.' As an actor it's always easier to shave or cut your hair for a role, but it's hard to put fake hair on or grow hair for a role. When you look at pictures of me, the longer my hair is, th...
She smiled. Her skin looked whiter than he recalled, and dark spidery veins were beginning to show beneath its surface. Her hair was still the color of spun silver and her eyes were still green as a cat’s. She was still beautiful. Looking at her, h...
Just then Antonio, his two guards, his two Pit Bulls, Sebastian, and a strange, tall Keja bloke who had long white-grey hair and a matching long beard entered. That’s Luther, Jared informed me. He’s Antonio’s Advisor. Someone should tell him th...
In particular I want to talk about natural black hair, and how it's not just hair. I mean, I'm interested in hair in sort of a very aesthetic way, just the beauty of hair, but also in a political way: what it says, what it means.
I am a bit of a fundamentalist when it comes to black women's hair. Hair is hair - yet also about larger questions: self-acceptance, insecurity and what the world tells you is beautiful. For many black women, the idea of wearing their hair naturally ...
Fear envelops bones like new skin, envelops blood with night’s skin, the earth moves beneath the soles of the feet - it is not your hair but the terror in your head, like long hair made of vertical nails, and what you see are not shattered streets,...
My litter sister looks up at me. Mom was right. Her eyes are the same as they've always been. Brown eyes fringed with long lashes and steeped with the memory of sweetness and light, laughter and joy - trapped in this mangled corpse-like face. "It's a...
