Hair hair hair

I know it's so cold outside, but it's so comfy in here. And I fee a restored woman. Nails in place, hair in super place, Nigel's been. I love Nigel. I hope he will always be there even when I'm an old an wrinkly woman in my 80's. He would then be in his 70's so he will not be dementiated like I will be. I have discovered a new way to make cash, a new way which isn't for me. Since hair extensions are all the rage, hair stylists are on the look out for clients with waist-long hair like me. They want to convince me to sell my hair. And Nigel has told me to beware. And I will be very aware. There is no way I'm selling my natural beauty away, if it doesn't get me 1 million of course. And even then, I would have to think it over. I have done the unthinkable once, and let a stylist cut one whole foot out of my hair. But it made sense then since it was going to a child with leukemia, as apparently one foot of hair makes a whole wig of natural hair for a child. And I still had long hair anyway. I didn't do it because I'm a good girl, but because if I were a little girl suffering baldness because of leukemia treatment I would desperately want someone to give me their natural hair. But doing without my hair for some dumb model to walk on a catwalk with? Or for some housewife who wants an immediate new look to excite the husband when he comes home seeing she is in urgent need of a sexual makeover? No. They can do with artificial hair or look elsewhere. That's not good enough a cause. And now I'm suddenly thinking, what if the sorry spies needed hair for a good medical reason? Would I oblige? Hmmm... no, of course not. Because I'm not donating my crowning glory to anyone who has tried to damage the spokes in my wheel of life. You see I'm not a good girl. They can get their own. I may have been slapped once, but I'm not about to turn the other cheek and pose for another slap. Worse still, I might as well get even. Because I've seen the spies on Face book, and Hola`, Hurray, they have horrible hair. And they're so full of sass oh dear. I could safely say it's because they have no Nigel, but I'd rather jump up and down in glee and say they have been robbed of this kind of crowning beauty. Because nature sometimes has a way of getting back at things itself, without me even lifting a manicured finger.