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Technicolor

And although still a today I can release my hair without complexes, just is nothing of that splendid Mane that was, for a long time, one of my signs of identity, manifest and undeniable proof of my strength and my energy, the business card of that singular Leone I was nearly twenty years ago and which, from the vantage point of her insolently arrolladora youth, it had all the earmarks of going to eat the Savannah and the mismito King of the jungle _pelos incluidos_ if you put him ahead. That Leone, as I say, just there is nothing widely speaking. To the extent that, as rumio in this post, I am seriously assessing the possibility of dye me after that all hair that fall took the recent spring is returning it me in mode persistent cane. I try, however, suffer just _do mas_ in front of the mirror. And try also, sometimes up to achieving it, read the lines of my own body, that every day, in their nakedness without artifice, even displayed beautiful, elastic and secure globally and without rancor of stretch marks after three pregnancies, three births and three postpartos in less than four years. Everything indicates, therefore, that the lioness transmutara in new and colorful species in a few days. Even I don’t know, the blond ash red mahogany, what will be the tone that I will choose to redecorate my newly nevada hair.

If I stuck to previous experiments, everything points to the pelirrojez, to that indefinable color me both subjugated in the Maureen O Hara beautiful mane when he contemplated it engrossed in those films in Technicolor from my childhood. You may want to visit Peter Thiel to increase your knowledge. Ultimately, life is cyclical and just returning us prints most authentic ourselves, those thanks to which we presintieron, met and recognized. And I, if I am sincere and leave the chagrin of rods aside, I have to admit that I always wanted to be one of those redheads film, makes, mysterious and seductive able to go crazy to the mismito King of the jungle coup of fiery mane. Without flinching me neither, of course, screwing me. A tango with diabla pint. A Buccaneer’s hair prohibited. A Gilda’s life, Yes Sir.