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Making the Change a good thing

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The Delilah Complex

When I was a child I had long, thick hair. I hated brushing it and it was invariably knotted and tatted into a bird's-nest-a-like and was one of the reasons my mother used to call me a little witch. Sadly, as an adult it became boringly dull and thin and wouldn't grown past my shoulders. According to the fashions of the times I had it permed for volume, dyed for colour, rollered, tonged, back-combed - the works - but was never happy until I discovered...EXTENSIONS. I have four sisters. Each

Xaviera

Xaviera

Learned a bit of Magic today.

Menopause (There, I've lost half an audience with one word) can seem like an end. Indeed, it has seemed like an end to me to so many things since the manky, old symptoms made their appearance. I'm 54 next week. I've tried to convince myself that this is the metamorphosis of the caterpillar into the butterfly, the achievement of full wisdom, the silver-haired blossoming of all that it is to be a woman. Ha! I'm sweaty...that's about it! But today I did see a little magic that I would never

Xaviera

Xaviera

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