Where’s the truth?

I went to see my old team today.  A work-related trip but it was nice to catch lunch and just catch up with people.

As Jane greeted my she complimented me on my hair.  Which was lovely of her.  And I don’t mean that in a patronising way.  Hear me out.

I am long overdue at the hairdressers.  I did get my roots sorted recently because with this level of “platinum highlights” it’s important to cover them up regularly.  But I haven’t actually had my hair cut for ages.  I feel my hair is lank and in need of a sorting out.  I sort of feel that my hair needs a boost in the same way my wardrobe gets a boost every time I get a fix of personal shopping.

So I felt that Jane was being kind, in the same way that when someone has had a hair dressing disaster, friends will comfort with phrases like “Well, it’s different.” or  “Wow, what do you think?” or even “Wow, you’ve had your hair cut.”  So it was a friendly thing that Jane did, to make me feel better than I looked or felt.

Tracey, this evening, and I’ve known Tracey forever, said “Are you OK?  You look tired.”  Well I am bloody tired.  Knackered actually.  I know it’s not acceptable to admit that and whenever someone asks “How are you?” the only acceptable response is “Terrific” or “Marvellous” or “Great.”  Well I don’t.  I feel run down, tired, lacking in energy and my face shows it.  I have dark circles under my eyes and to say I was fine would be to deny the evidence in front of Tracey’s eyes.

If you meet me tomorrow though and ask me how I am, I’ll be “Great.”