At least for now, Iíve given up on the idea of combing my hair the way I want it. On Monday of last week, I got a haircut which (as always) I thought was nearly perfect as I left the salon. And it did look good, until the next day, when I couldnít make it do anything I wanted it to. Since then Iíve tried various combinations of gels without success. Yesterday was the worst hair day of my life. Of my life.
So now Iíve given up and let my hair do what it wants to do, which is flow forward from the back of my head and come to a point in the middle of my forehead. Okay, itís not quite as bad as it sounds. Fortunately itís very short at the moment, so the best thing I can do with it is keep it from looking totally freaky, the way it did yesterday.
So today, with a toga and a laurel wreath, Iíd be looking a little like Julius Caesar (before, you know, that thing in the forum). I look in the mirror and I see a Republican staring back at me, and itís not a pretty sight. But itís a whole lot better than the something-about-Mary look I sported all day yesterday. I guess I just wasnít meant to have hair that I could smooth back with one hand.
How did I get myself into this situation? Well, you see, the stylist had this soft, musical voice and that Filipino accent that sounds like silver chimes. I would pretty much have agreed with anything she wanted to do. For some reason she chose to talk to me while the clippers were buzzing in my ears, so Iím not exactly sure of everything she said. But it was worth an extra dollar in the tip.
Somehow I managed to spend ten days trying to live with something I knew the very next day wasnít going to work out. So today I gave up my dream hair for something more practical. What will happen when it starts getting longer again I donít know. I do have a discount card that my stylist gave me for my next haircut, but Iím actually thinking about going somewhere else.