How Did I Get Here, And Where Is The Next Turn?

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Brought up Nov 18, 2013

Hair Sucks

Don't you just love it?

I got my hair cut today. I said I wanted it trimmed, the layers, and the sides evened out since the same person cut it last time, and one side was slightly longer than the other.

My hair sucks on a good day. On a bad day, it's all I can do to keep from taking the boy brat's beard trimmer and buzzing it to the skin with a cool wig standing by.

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Well, on the plus side, hair grows back, right?

My hair is the shortest I've had it in years, way shorter than I had intended.

I told her that I use my daughter's straightener. I like it straight, flipped under most of the time. She went on and on about how if she had my curls she would never straighten it, and proceeded to cut it how she wanted, not how I did. What most don't seem to realize is, my hair has a mind of it's own. You can put goo in it, style it, and 20 minutes later, it's going to do as it pleases unless it is glued down with industrial strength hair spray, mouse, gel...

I pointed out that the one was still longer than the other, and she trimmed it a fraction. She worked this goo into it, and dried it curly.

Sure, the back is still thick and curls nice, but the front in particular has thinned to the point where I now part it off center to try and cover it. (Thanks, Punk for planting the 'comb over' image in my head a while ago when I groused about the thin spot. I can't get that image gone now!!!)

Oh, and I trimmed, myself, about 3/4 of an inch off the same side that was not quite the same length as the other.

She ain't touching my head again.

The damned hair is a bit short to use the girl brat's straightener now.

Tomorrow, when I get paid, I think I will buy a smaller one of my very own, and maybe do some research on humidity fighting hair products.

The girl brat said it was like a reddish brown football helmet.

Great.

Another image I will never get rid of now. Thanks, kid.

A football helmet with a comb over, and right now, a few glittering strands meaning it's time, yet again, to knock on Revlon's door to illusion enhancing products, and fight my losing battle against silver.

Damn.

I wish I were confident enough to just let nature take it's course. Let the damned silver and curls just run rampant...

Screw that. I'll let the hair go when I can't keep my arms up long enough to torture it into some sort of shape any more.

Besides, Halloween is over. I'd scare small children.

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