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I’ve got this problem. Being as isolated in life as I am, there’s really no one else to whom I can bring this issue, except, dear readers, to you. Can you help? Will you help?
I offer a hearty thank you in advance.
Here’s the thing. I’m fast approaching forty. I’ve maintained the happy fiction since this blog’s inception that I was “on the cusp” of forty, but now? Now I’m actually on the cusp.
And here on the cusp, things they are a’changin’. Things are getting just a little scary. Now I’m not the type of girl who really much cares about wrinkles, or gray hair, or the sundry other slings and arrows that time casts down upon our bodies.
But this? This is different. This involves my hair — more specifically, the texture of my hair.
You see, when I was younger, I sported a head of the silkiest curls you could possibly imagine. How did I keep them so lovely, you ask? Ah, it was a grueling routine. Let me tell you it:
1. Wash hair with combination shampoo/conditioner.
2. Rapidly shake head after shower is turned off.
3. Run hands through hair.
4. Go on merry way.
And that, my friends, was it. That’s all it took. My hair would fetchingly curl about my face and stay exactly like that until the next time I took to the shower. Or at least that’s how I remember it.
But now my hair is old. It’s lost its sheen, its glow. Unless I deep-condition it (hourly), the silkiness from days of lore is long gone. Sigh.
Usually I am ok with this. I take the loss of shine, the wrinkles, the (Alleged! It’s not yet verified!) age spot on my hand as markers of increased wisdom. However, I cannot bear one side effect of my impendingly old-lady hair.
Apparently I have a tendency to thrash during sex. I’m not aware of it. I think I’m lying totally still, so as to keep my (imagined) hugely-swollen clit in as much contact as is possible with my lover’s tongue, or my legs cranked as wide apart as they’ll go without disjointing. I’m off in The Land of Orgasms, and it must be the rule of that land that when there, I thrash.
With the texture my hair used to be, I could have thrashed for weeks at a time without any problem, but now thrashing causes problems. Thrashing raises on the back of my head a thing which most closely resembles this. Which is, in case you don’t recognize it, a rat’s nest. And is, when applied to hair, gross.
It’s not an attractive look post-sex. Nor is it easy to rectify. I am forced to attack it in stages: fingers, brush, wide-tooth comb, fine-tooth comb, shower, conditioner, conditioner, conditioner. This puts quite a crimp in my plans (and his) when bacon is on the agenda.
I could perhaps convince my lover to restrain my head as he’s doing evil things to my lower half. But that doesn’t sound like much fun. Or I could make conscious effort not to thrash. Again, doesn’t sound so great.
So I ask you: What does one do when one’s hair has grown too unreliable for sex thrashing? All reasonable suggestions welcome below.
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Check out Butterfly Temptress’ series Live.Love.Cancer on Best Sex Bloggers. She’s just posted part six.
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Stay tuned for swag tomorrow. I’ve not heard back from three of our winners from last week, so I’m going to be selecting and emailing some new winners later today — check your email.

Monet Lingerie, Sexy Lingerie and Stiletto Heels
