Hi Anne,
Christmas are comming and i have no idea what to buy for my little sister.
I have been thinking about about headband. It would be usefull! When we are sitting in one bedroom, I want to read a book late at night so she can not sleep( beacuse of light)!
What do u think?
Love,
Martyna
I don’t like headbands. They remind me of primary school days at my cousin’s religious school. Girls were not allowed to have their hair done in any way that would look nice or attractive, so they were made to wear headbands.Blue, they were, like the rest of their uniforms.
Anyway, I remeber well now, girls used to get their way, by doing their hair pretty and putting their headbands on top, held by invisible clips.
“it’s not a headband!” he exclaimed. she snickered anyway. “i’m serious! it’s a hitai-ate, and its a symbol of pride!”
she rolled her eyes. “uh, yeah, weeaboo pride.”
“shut up, shut up!”
“you got another think coming,” t says and looks him in the eye. how one could be so defiant with such a soft girly tongue, ah. but c has other things to think about.
expression fierce like eagle talons over beds of lavender, that wild beauty of nature. t is something like a painting. something to look at from afar. not a scene to step into.
My sister had a headband that really worked for her. It brought out something beautiful in her appearance whenever she wore it and most or all it was a gift that I had brought for her on her eighteenth birthday.
My sister says I would look good in a headband. Like it would fit my secret aesthetic of hippie woodland creature. I think she’s getting me a three pack of them probably for christmas, which is kind of a shame because I don’t really feel like wearing stuff to keep my giant bulging brain in all the time.
At first I thought he was wearing a headband but on closer inspection I realised it was a bandage.
“What the hell happened to you?” I asked.
He grimaced and for the first time I noticed a dark red stain that was spreading.
“I don’t know” he replied weakly and fell to the floor.
Today was Angelica’s first date with the boy she had been crushing on for years, and she had to look perfect. She observed herself in the mirror, hair pulled back and loosely curled with her unruly bangs held back by her lucky headband. The headband, blue and white striped with a small bow on the left of her head, completed her look and she smiled widely at herself, pleased with her look.
A headband is something I don’t usually wear. I have one when I want to wash my face at night to keep water from getting in my hair, and that’s pretty much about it. I don’t like how my hair looks with headbands.
His hair curled around the faded cloth as if it had grown with the hair, naturally fitting in with his style. It so effortlessly kept the stray hairs at bay, keeping his face clear of any annoyances.
it seemed like a red headhand, left hastily on the cold wet ground, perhaps by another careless children who screened as the merry-go-round spun, or the kids running. then it moved.
I found Laurie’s headband on the corner of the dresser, still damp with sweat from her morning jog. Her gym shorts, tank top, and socks were wadded up in balls on her bed. But no sign of her. I walked over to the desk and picked up her journal. Locked. I needed a key.
she wore it because she liked the look, in style, on the magazine covers. she wore it because it remembered her of her mother, the last gift she received. she wore it because he said he liked it and he lied.
I used to be obsessed with watching Gossip Girl. Blair Waldorf was fabulous. Well, she made some pretty idiotic decisions. She wasn’t a role model for me, but damn, did I love her headbands.
I have at least thirty headbands for each day of the month, and I’m counting on getting more. I have at least thirty-five pairs of differently patterned socks, and I have three cats that I interchange every day with love. I do not like having the same things.
In fact, that is about the feeling I have towards every facet in life.
Squeeze it tight
like holding my brains in
stop the constant rain
of unsettled schemes
return the mantle of the dreams
with this terry cloth crown of thorns
Her typically wild dark hair was securely fastened beneath the headband I was sure had been looped around my desk lamp but I paid it little mind; this wasn’t the first time she’d borrowed something of mine without asking and, honestly, it wouldn’t be the last.
The headband kept the sweat out of her eyes, and thank goodness, because by mile 8 she could feel her focus starting to dwindle. The last thing she needed was sweat stinging her eyes as she ran up the most gorgeous canyon she’d ever seen. She had trained for the running but not for the sight-seeing. She wanted to stop and bask in her awe, but she had a race to finish.
When I’m bored in class (which, let’s face it, is often) I often try to think of what my band would be called. That is, in my imaginary world where I play an instrument and have friends and am cool and can think of something better than ‘Apostrophe’ for a band name.
I sleeked back my hair into a high pony, clipped in the loose strands, and topped off the look with a sparkly headband. Not only was I going to the gym today, but I knew for a fact that Paxton would be there, my destined true love. My one thought was the hope that he would decide to look over at the treadmill where I was and smile. I would die.
the number of people that are counting on me is tremendous. I could’t stop this race even if I wanted to. It’s time to see this for what it is and that is a victory in it of its self.
a line of sweat crowns the new victorious
a strand of silk suddenly alerts you of nearby spiders
hair sticks to the temples of workers building the temples of gods
clouds encircle the newborn son
She put on ‘Eye of the Tiger’ on her iPod while she started last round of the place. Sweat seeped into her headband, and her eyes watered from the effort. There it was again; the wall. She felt sluggish, physically and mentally defeated. Still, she wouldn’t stop. She put one feet in front of the other robotically, riding on her muscle memory to carry her forward.
I love a good elastic or cloth or colorful pretty head band to keep my natural hair from falling into my eyes. It makes my outfit hit or miss with the choice of headband that I’d like to add.
When he finally found that headband in among the mud and churned up grass, even as dirty as it was now, he put it back on, hoping that one of the girls he’d seen during the concerts would see it and commence to casually and unconsciously sashay her way towards him with any kind of desire.
THe headband that was chosen for our school parade conflicted with the one of the opposing school, and all sort of confusion erupted. There seem no easy way to solve the issue and we gave way to the protestations, in order that peace might prevail. .
basic bitches. the middle-school-aged girl I saw in target yesterday explaining to her mother the EXACT headband she wanted, and I wondered what girl in her school had inspired her to want the very same one. but mostly, basic bitches.
This thing has been with me for six and a half years. All the way from middleschool to graduation, to now. It’s been splattered in horse shit, it’s been with me on stage, and now it’s in the middle of the road, flattened by the tread of a tire.
A sparkly gold headband could be made out amongst the wild patch of frizzy, crimped, ginger-colored hair. Her eyelids were adorned with two fluorescent blue circles, her thin lips painted a vibrant pink the color of her leg warmers.
“I’m Mary-Anne.” She cooed, twisting the mass of hair around and around and around her finger as she obnoxiously chewed a wad of gum.
She wore a pink headband as she ran down the path. The headband held her long blonde hair in place with the exception of the wisps of hair which framed her face. She was beautiful and the pink headband brought out the color of her cheeks.
Purple. The first headband he picked for her was purple. Purple was such an unexpected colour, just like her. Purple could be anything, much like he knew she could be.
Hi Anne,
Christmas are comming and i have no idea what to buy for my little sister.
I have been thinking about about headband. It would be usefull! When we are sitting in one bedroom, I want to read a book late at night so she can not sleep( beacuse of light)!
What do u think?
Love,
Martyna
I don’t like headbands. They remind me of primary school days at my cousin’s religious school. Girls were not allowed to have their hair done in any way that would look nice or attractive, so they were made to wear headbands.Blue, they were, like the rest of their uniforms.
Anyway, I remeber well now, girls used to get their way, by doing their hair pretty and putting their headbands on top, held by invisible clips.
one stripe. two stripe. three stripes a country. primary colors and primary priorities.
“it’s not a headband!” he exclaimed. she snickered anyway. “i’m serious! it’s a hitai-ate, and its a symbol of pride!”
she rolled her eyes. “uh, yeah, weeaboo pride.”
“shut up, shut up!”
“you got another think coming,” t says and looks him in the eye. how one could be so defiant with such a soft girly tongue, ah. but c has other things to think about.
expression fierce like eagle talons over beds of lavender, that wild beauty of nature. t is something like a painting. something to look at from afar. not a scene to step into.
c grins.
My sister had a headband that really worked for her. It brought out something beautiful in her appearance whenever she wore it and most or all it was a gift that I had brought for her on her eighteenth birthday.
Injured and alone on the pavement of Athens
My sister says I would look good in a headband. Like it would fit my secret aesthetic of hippie woodland creature. I think she’s getting me a three pack of them probably for christmas, which is kind of a shame because I don’t really feel like wearing stuff to keep my giant bulging brain in all the time.
At first I thought he was wearing a headband but on closer inspection I realised it was a bandage.
“What the hell happened to you?” I asked.
He grimaced and for the first time I noticed a dark red stain that was spreading.
“I don’t know” he replied weakly and fell to the floor.
Her headband kept slipping back – the tiny teeth had broken off years ago – to reveal grey, oily roots and scaly hairline psoriasis.
Today was Angelica’s first date with the boy she had been crushing on for years, and she had to look perfect. She observed herself in the mirror, hair pulled back and loosely curled with her unruly bangs held back by her lucky headband. The headband, blue and white striped with a small bow on the left of her head, completed her look and she smiled widely at herself, pleased with her look.
A headband is something I don’t usually wear. I have one when I want to wash my face at night to keep water from getting in my hair, and that’s pretty much about it. I don’t like how my hair looks with headbands.
His hair curled around the faded cloth as if it had grown with the hair, naturally fitting in with his style. It so effortlessly kept the stray hairs at bay, keeping his face clear of any annoyances.
it seemed like a red headhand, left hastily on the cold wet ground, perhaps by another careless children who screened as the merry-go-round spun, or the kids running. then it moved.
I found Laurie’s headband on the corner of the dresser, still damp with sweat from her morning jog. Her gym shorts, tank top, and socks were wadded up in balls on her bed. But no sign of her. I walked over to the desk and picked up her journal. Locked. I needed a key.
she wore it because she liked the look, in style, on the magazine covers. she wore it because it remembered her of her mother, the last gift she received. she wore it because he said he liked it and he lied.
I used to be obsessed with watching Gossip Girl. Blair Waldorf was fabulous. Well, she made some pretty idiotic decisions. She wasn’t a role model for me, but damn, did I love her headbands.
I have at least thirty headbands for each day of the month, and I’m counting on getting more. I have at least thirty-five pairs of differently patterned socks, and I have three cats that I interchange every day with love. I do not like having the same things.
In fact, that is about the feeling I have towards every facet in life.
Squeeze it tight
like holding my brains in
stop the constant rain
of unsettled schemes
return the mantle of the dreams
with this terry cloth crown of thorns
Her typically wild dark hair was securely fastened beneath the headband I was sure had been looped around my desk lamp but I paid it little mind; this wasn’t the first time she’d borrowed something of mine without asking and, honestly, it wouldn’t be the last.
The headband kept the sweat out of her eyes, and thank goodness, because by mile 8 she could feel her focus starting to dwindle. The last thing she needed was sweat stinging her eyes as she ran up the most gorgeous canyon she’d ever seen. She had trained for the running but not for the sight-seeing. She wanted to stop and bask in her awe, but she had a race to finish.
Wrapped around my wrist it twists and circles. There it remains unneeded, yet not discarded.
When I’m bored in class (which, let’s face it, is often) I often try to think of what my band would be called. That is, in my imaginary world where I play an instrument and have friends and am cool and can think of something better than ‘Apostrophe’ for a band name.
Headband
It can come in many different colors, shapes, designs…
Much like a human.
They’re all special, different, yet compliment well.
I just called you a headband. :P
I sleeked back my hair into a high pony, clipped in the loose strands, and topped off the look with a sparkly headband. Not only was I going to the gym today, but I knew for a fact that Paxton would be there, my destined true love. My one thought was the hope that he would decide to look over at the treadmill where I was and smile. I would die.
the number of people that are counting on me is tremendous. I could’t stop this race even if I wanted to. It’s time to see this for what it is and that is a victory in it of its self.
I opened up the gift Soul gave me and and it was…
A headband.
I mean, it’s not TERRIBLE, but I kinda want more than just a headband.
Soul saw the disappointment in my face and said, “Well, at least it’s not fix-a-flat!”
a line of sweat crowns the new victorious
a strand of silk suddenly alerts you of nearby spiders
hair sticks to the temples of workers building the temples of gods
clouds encircle the newborn son
She put on ‘Eye of the Tiger’ on her iPod while she started last round of the place. Sweat seeped into her headband, and her eyes watered from the effort. There it was again; the wall. She felt sluggish, physically and mentally defeated. Still, she wouldn’t stop. She put one feet in front of the other robotically, riding on her muscle memory to carry her forward.
I love a good elastic or cloth or colorful pretty head band to keep my natural hair from falling into my eyes. It makes my outfit hit or miss with the choice of headband that I’d like to add.
When he finally found that headband in among the mud and churned up grass, even as dirty as it was now, he put it back on, hoping that one of the girls he’d seen during the concerts would see it and commence to casually and unconsciously sashay her way towards him with any kind of desire.
THe headband that was chosen for our school parade conflicted with the one of the opposing school, and all sort of confusion erupted. There seem no easy way to solve the issue and we gave way to the protestations, in order that peace might prevail. .
The headband was cool. Swaggy. The colors had yolo. Swag they said. They were super swaggy, with a BRO shirt as well. Must be avoided at all costs.
Don’t think twice, it’s alright.
basic bitches. the middle-school-aged girl I saw in target yesterday explaining to her mother the EXACT headband she wanted, and I wondered what girl in her school had inspired her to want the very same one. but mostly, basic bitches.
This thing has been with me for six and a half years. All the way from middleschool to graduation, to now. It’s been splattered in horse shit, it’s been with me on stage, and now it’s in the middle of the road, flattened by the tread of a tire.
headbands
i do not wear them
because they make my hair look weird
much more suited for english
schoolgirls
once my brothers friend
helped me brush my hair
put it up she cried
chastising me
i told her it would not look good
she gathered it all back and elasticated
it with a snap
oh you’re right
she laughed
A sparkly gold headband could be made out amongst the wild patch of frizzy, crimped, ginger-colored hair. Her eyelids were adorned with two fluorescent blue circles, her thin lips painted a vibrant pink the color of her leg warmers.
“I’m Mary-Anne.” She cooed, twisting the mass of hair around and around and around her finger as she obnoxiously chewed a wad of gum.
Mary-Anne looked like a cheap stripper.
She wore a pink headband as she ran down the path. The headband held her long blonde hair in place with the exception of the wisps of hair which framed her face. She was beautiful and the pink headband brought out the color of her cheeks.
Purple. The first headband he picked for her was purple. Purple was such an unexpected colour, just like her. Purple could be anything, much like he knew she could be.