Why am I beating my hair up? Because I want it to look like something that it isn't? These are questions that I've been pondering my whole life.
When I'm at school, I usually put my hair up. High pony, side pony, or a bun, I like my hair out of my face.
I like getting my ideas from the things of now. I am very conscious of the moment, of images that belong to this moment instead of another period. Fashion is really a reflection of our lives. You see women today and they don't do their hair up; they all wear their hair undone. So you have to reflect that in your photography .
When you look at the amount of medication that has been administered to children today, it stands the hair up on your arms. Because this is the way that they are helping children manage their emotions.
I was always told from the hat-makers that you should have your hair up because it shows the hat more. It feels more 'done' when your hair is up.
I got my red dress on tonight Dancing in the dark in the pale moonlight Done my hair up real big beauty queen style High heels off, I'm feeling alive
I get a wild hair up my nose and I want to go.
Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty. And meet me tonight in Atlantic City
Straight up from this road Away from the fitted particles of frost Coating the hull of each chick pea, And the stiff archer bug making its way In the morning dark, toe hair by toe hair, Up the stem of the trillim, Straight up through the sky above this road right now, The galaxies of the Cygnus A cluster Are colliding with each other in a massive swarm Of interpenetrating and exploding catastrophes. I try to remember that.
I can be whatever. I can wear shoes or don't wear shoes. I can tie my hair up or wear it down. It doesn't matter.
The way you walk, that's me The way you talk, that's me The way you got your hair up, did you forget that's me? & the voice in the speaker right now, that's me, that's me & the voice in your ear, that's me
I make jokes about it, but it's the truth that I kind of patterned my look after the town tramp. I didn't know what she was, just this woman who was blond and piled her hair up, wore high heels and tight skirts, and, boy, she was the prettiest thing I'd ever seen. Momma used to say, "Aw, she's just trash," and I thought, That's what I want to be when I grow up. Trash.
Put your hair up, Min. The secret ingredient is not your hair.
(Talks about a school production) 'There was one solo; but it was a guy. It was this character called 'Freddy Fast Talk' and it was the bad guy. I didn't care, I was like I will dress up like a guy, I want to sing that song. And so I remembered we drew on eyebrows, and I had like a moustache,and we put all my hair up in this hat. So I dressed like a guy and sang the solo.
I sit on the couch watching her arrange her long red hair before my bedroom mirror. she pulls her hair up and piles it on top of her head- she lets her eyes look at my eyes- then she drops her hair and lets it fall down in front of her face. we go to bed and I hold her speechlessly from the back my arm around her neck I touch her wrists and hands feel up to her elbows no further.
Ah Padriac. I have often wondered if boys who have flaming red hair up top also have...yep.
There's not really anywhere I can go without being recognized, but if I put my hair up, that cuts the crowd in half.
By age seven, I used to comb my hair for performances, just pull my hair up into a bun. Granted, it wasn't a very intricate hairstyle. Still, to be that responsible and disciplined at age seven is unusual.
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