I kept my head; I mean, I've never been one of those people who ended up in the gutter with sick in my hair.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
I was in good control of my body, and I kept my head still.
The more I mistreat my hair, the stronger it grows back. I think it must be determined to survive.
I think I started realizing I was losing my hair when I was in Illinois. And it was traumatic. It was not something I had figured on in my life.
I was getting a little bored with my hair. It's kind of a symbolic thing, just getting rid of the past, moving forward. It's amazing what a reaction you get when you cut your hair.
I've still got a brilliant head of hair, which refuses to lay down!
I surprise myself that I'm not dead in the gutter somewhere, surprised that I haven't given up.
I've had some real hair disasters.
Far as I can tell, I still have most of my hair, my gut is not hanging over my belt, and I still have all of my teeth.
I was all about my thoughts, my work, my inspiration. I was always in hair.
I have this lock of hair that keeps falling across my forehead. It drives me mad.