I’m having a bad hair
year day. Alert Oprah. I need a makeover.
I’m not saying God made a mistake, but somewhere in the DNA hair warehouse, someone made a boo-boo and went hog-wild, inserting way too much genetic code giving me this ridiculous, curly hair. And no, I’m not thankful for it, so all you naturally straight-haired girls can just slap me.
Stylists always gather it into a thick rope and comment. “Wow! Look at all this hair!” The last stylist admired the curls and said, “This is exactly what a perm is supposed to look like!” But, a-hem, this is not a perm. And perms aren’t even in style anymore. And why are my bangs suddenly curving in a backwards “C” on my forehead instead of curving straight down? They’ve suddenly decided to swarm to the beat of their own drummer and I am not amused.
I need bangs, obedient bangs which will frame my haggard face. I’d do away with them entirely (OFF WITH YOUR
HEAD HAIR!) except that my forehead needs a disguise and because my head is too big for a ten-gallon hat, I need bangs. Regular, normal, obedient bangs. Is this too much to ask?
I can’t think straight when my hair is a-tangle. I’d had it short. I’ve grown it long. I highlighted it for years and then three years ago, I decided to embrace my natural dirty-dishwater, how-now-brown-cow color. Then I found a gray hair.
So, at the moment, I’m distracted by my below-shoulders mane which is mainly a pain in the rain. Hide the scissors.