Hair We Go Again!

I spend an inordinate amount of time looking at people's heads. I'll admit it, I have hair-envy. Yes, I do have hair but no, I don't have hair that people look at with envy. I was "blessed" with thin, wispy semi-wavy hair. I think it's from my mother but since she always wears a wig, I can't compare. How can I describe my hair? Think "cow licks" - a whole head of them. When I picture "wavy" I think about old time movie stars like Betty Gable and Rita Hayward. When I look in the mirror, I see that wavy means that each section of my hair is waving to people all around me.

In fact, my hair is so bad that I recently took a trip and when I went into one State Welcome center and told her I had my dog with me, she automatically assumed it was a service dog. Do they have service dogs for hair and make-up impaired? No matter how nice I get my hair to look at the beginning of the day (thanks to "product" overload) by lunch time, I look like I just pulled into the fast food drive-through madly pushing my shopping cart.

By the time I got home from my trip, I knew I had to do something. Most people would make an appointment with a stylist but I've done that before. It's hard to watch a stylist holding a tissue to her weeping eyes as she sprays enough hair spray on my head to allow me to go on a motorcycle without an additional helmet.

I was either going to cut my hair really short and let each little wave play whatever havoc it wanted to play as a 2 inch long strand - or I was going to give myself a perm. God must have rushed into high gear because for some reason I could not find my curling rods. Luckily, just after God's bedtime, I finally found them and started on the perm-fix.

I now look like Little Orphan Annie's old, slightly off Aunt, but at least I have a controlled head of tightly wound but somewhat angry waves. Now I have to find my hats.