Hair Update

Frequent readers may recall my February 22 trip to Style America. I was having my hair fixed. It was then that Beautician Lisa Dang informed me that I (a) am going bald, (b) have an unusual hair that’s growing from my otherwise bald forehead, and (c) have gray hair. What I didn’t tell you before about that day is that I told BLD of a work trip I had scheduled to Oklahoma City that made it necessary for me to have even prettier hair than normal. I thought she’d try to do a better job than usual if she thought I needed some really good hair for a business trip. She had lots of questions about my trip. Among other things, I ended up telling her that I was going to OKC to work, that I was staying at a Bed & Breakfast with a person from San Antonio (Vickie W.), and that my Mom yells at me all the time.

I went back for another hairdo yesterday. I was shocked when she asked me about my trip to Oklahoma City and my co-worker from San Antonio. I was shocked again when she asked if my Mom’s been yelling at me lately. “This Beautician remembers everything!” I thought. Then she said, “I don’t remember you having gray hair. You really have a lot of gray hair.” I asked how she couldn’t remember my gray hair, but could remember all of that other stuff not having to do with hair. After all, I told her, her whole job is to remember about my hair.

Clearly she is more concerned about things none of her business than she is about my hair. And you should see how she annihilated me this time! First, she cut the perimeter of my bald area shorter than the rest of my head. It’s the kind of short that makes it want to stand straight up. It really looks silly. Plus, if you will imagine that the area extending from the southern edge of my dual crowns down to where my neck hair ceases to naturally grow is a football field, she cut my hair clear up to the 50 yard line. So my hair bottom (sorry to use such technical hair terminology) stops just about midway up my ear. Tomorrow I’m going to New Orleans where I will look plain stupid.

Next time I go in there I predict she’ll ask me how American Airlines flight 2238 to New Orleans went, but will be appalled to learn that I am losing my hair.

It occurs to me that 90% of the crap I write about has to do with hair, meat, cheese, death, or pants. One day I'm going to write an entry that combines all five. Meanwhile, shouldn't there be more to life than this?