The other day my coworker was looking at me askance and after a while of that she asked what was up with my hair. I had to think about it for a moment and then I remembered, "Oh, I probably didn't bother to comb it today." That's not nearly as bad as that sounds. My hair is crazy thick, stick straight, and hangs where it wants to hang so about the only difference when I do comb it is that there is some vague semblance of a part.
HER: You really need to do more with your hair.
ME: What do you mean? I take it with me wherever I go. We do a lot a together, me and my hair.
HER: That's not what I mean...
ME: Oh, you mean I should attempt to tame it. That way lies madness...
HER: I think you could do something if you tried.
ME: I've tried. My hair is feral. There is no hope.
I think she's just jealous of my easy care hair. She primps hers every day without fail. She is its master and it obeys her. My hair is independent.
I know what she's talking about though. My one layer has grown out to the point where it flaps out on the sides of my head like wings. I can't do anything about it. It just needs to grow out some more and then it will be too heavy to do the wing thing and it way lay down like all the rest of my hair. I'm not about to shellac that stuff into place. It wouldn't listen anyway.
The Fine Print: More Club Scrap "Equestrian" (mostly).
