Side braid, I love to commit my tresses to thee on the mornings after I went to sleep with sopping wet hair and it doesn’t really look very well at all done up in anything else but you. You are the only thing that can tame this wild and beastly forelock.
I love to rat you out, pull out lose strands, and basically make you look as feral as possible.
Because I’m a wild woman. And don’t you forget it.
I like it when I bend over to pick something up and you fall over my shoulder. I like that a lot. It makes my hair feel long and heavenly and like I should be riding a beautiful, white horse, while wearing nothing but you, sweet, darling Godiva-ian Side Braid.
Side braid, there are times when I look in the mirror and find that I resemble a Mennonite woman but I don’t care. I really don’t care. If I wear a splash of chartreuse or a skirt that comes up above my knees, the Mennonite look is neutralized and I look all fresh and fizzy instead.
Best of all, Side Braid, I like it when RW comes along and tugs on you and then wraps his arms around me and kisses me, like a brute, full on the lips. You’re like a fishing lure to that man. And for that I am thankful. You hook him and I’ll reel him in.
Side Braid, you don’t take much effort, in fact, you are effortless. When I am with you I want to put on high heels and howl at the moon. Nothing makes me feel like you make me feel. Come by tomorrow again. Please? I think I love you.
xx,
The Noisy Plume