Parting Sorrow

"Parting is such sweet sorrow", said Shakespeare and he was right! The part in my hair was evidently a "vice" and this time not of Mr. S's invention but of the hairdresser's who pranced about my chair flourishing his comb.  "You part, not left," he exclaimed, "It right. No?" He brandished his weapon, a brush, and voila, my head did look better! When I left the salon, my, wallet much lighter, I made a promise to change and part my hair on the right from then on. Never again on the left. But the next time I shampooed and faithfully put the part on the right, not the left, as my day went on, my hair decided against me.  My next visit to the mirror and there it was. The hair had spoken. As time went on, I forgot about it as life got in the way of vanity and normalcy returned. Not until today, when getting over a fierce cold, did I feel the need to do something more in life and recalled Giorgio, the hairdresser, and put my part on the right side of my head.  A half hour later, still with hot air brush in hand, the mission was accomplished. My hair parting was "vice...by action dignified" and to me parting on the right now seemed a "virtue". I went about the day feeling renewed. I was a fresh, different person. The old me had become enhanced and invigorated by this new aspect. I, a plain gal, felt quite attractive even though I didn't have time to check out a mirror in the course of the work load. When at last, I escaped my given tasks, I rushed to the mirror. It had been the ideal day and I attributed it to the new parting - on the right! How easy it was to become the person I had always wanted to be.  I looked into the mirror. There before me was my hair, my epiphany.  My old part on the left was back alas, and worse, I thought I could sense a smirk lurking there.  Yes, Mr. Shakespeare, "Parting is such sweet sorrow."