Haircuts, love them or hate them. I am way overdue. This long, thick, straight,
won't-hold-curl-for-even-an-hour hair is dragging me down. But I am trying really hard to wait it out. I'm not a pony tail kind of gal. My ears look like wing nuts. I can't push the hair off my forehead; it exposes this little mole that is a weirdo magnet. I don't need it prominently exposed attracting all kinds of nuts and bolts. So, I will live with this devil-may-care (alright, bag lady) look for two more weeks. Then I shall have my locks lifted and shaped into a new do.
This reminds me of something that happened years ago when hubby was still working night shift. His daughter stopped by with the young grandchildren one afternoon. "Grandpa!" they shouted as he sat down between them on the couch wrapped in his robe. His curly hair was wild, like Albert Einstein's frizz. The kids asked why. I told them Grandpa had just woke up and hadn't had a shower yet.
"What does that have to do with his hair?"
"Water makes his hair shrink back to its naturally curly shape."
Little Georgie, the scientist and little Morgan, the kindergartener leaned behind Grandpa's back and conspired. They left the room together and came back together. They sat down beside Grandpa. I caught them just as they were lifting their water filled glasses atop his head.
"Stop! What are you doing?" I shouted.
"Science. We want to see Grandpa's hair shrink."
I shudder to think...