The twin- win

I've been away for quite a while today; away from my blog. But at least I had good reason to; shopping, eating (at my mum's) and sleeping, and then letting my Nigel do the hairy magic trick. Ok that sounds gory, I am not hirsute, not one bit. But yes I am proud of my glorious mane which now hangs to below my waist. And yes it's a fiery red, which is not my natural colour, not one bit, but it's still up to Nigel to do the hairy bit. Oh dear, that bloke is an angel sent from heaven. The way he can tease locks into perfect magazine-like styles is a mystery. And there I used to think that beautiful hair came naturally. But now I'm thinking perhaps there is a Nigel-man behind the magazine. There has to be, I don't think any woman wakes up with perfect hair like mine is now. This hair subject has always been so close to home, close to heart too. I find no plausible reason why the hair thing is something so dear both to me and my twin. My other half, he's not bothered, he doesn't have hair in the first place and is really happy not to have to bother with bad hair days. But us twins, well, my hair is showing no signs of going anywhere, my twin is not so lucky. Of course with the Nigel magic, he makes it look as if his hair is not going anywhere either, but it's such a gimmick. He probably has 80% less hair than I do. Hurray, for once I win the twin competition. I also seem to win the never-a-blackhead competition, I never have any so that's two competitions. Phase three of the competition is the wrinkle one, my twin has so many more 'laughter lines' than I do, so again hurray I win that too. I win another one, the nose one, but let's stop at there. That's 4 already. And I guess the big win of all; if the world had to go to war I would survive him. He wouldn't last long. I would, I'd last quite a long time, probably one hundred times longer than him. So, put the Atkins away, I'd live to see the imaginary war being over. Not that it would please me. I always secretly wonder who will be the first to go. Sometimes I make myself sad over it. I have not yet grown out of the twice-a-month nightmare which has been happening for a good 25 years now. The nightmare where my twin is gone and I am left there, twin no more. And it's not a nice feeling. Sometimes there's blood in it, sometimes there isn't, but it always gives me the feeling that whatever happens in the dream could have been prevented. Or perhaps the smoking will see to it that I go first. Much better that way. Stopping here, I don't like where this is going. So off to face book for a bit.