Ok so let's talk hair. My hair is getting caught everywhere lately. It constantly gets stuck under the strap of my bag, when I sit back it gets caught between me and the chair, and when I am cruising around with the sun roof open, it gets sucked right out.
Clearly it is time for a trim, but I have two totally ridiculous concerns about this. First of all, I am going to have to cheat on the guy who cuts my hair and go somewhere else cheaper. I do love him so very much, but there is no reason for anyone this poor to pay a $20 premium for excellent flirting skills and an adorable accent. Second, I am concerned I am going to look older. It isn't easy for us non-22-year-olds to fit in with the law school, district attorney's office crowd. People don't question me now but post-weed whacking, who knows? Maybe I am like the Sampson of looking youthful (Bible character shout out).
What is that you say? On a scale of zero to ten your pity level is a 0.2. Yea, I figured.
If you think that is ridiculous, I just want you to know that this kind of madness of runs in my family. My dad* has crazy long, brambly, bushy eyebrows which he refuses to cut. I have told him on many occasions that children will think he is trying to steal Christmas.
I truly and honestly believe that he does not cut them because he strokes them as he thinks (as an old wise man would stroke a beard) and he is afraid he will not be able to think as well without them.
Anyway enough about other people, back to me. This length hair is flat out dangerous, I say it has to go.
Hair poem:
Godiva was great,
Rapunzel was better
But my hair hangs too long
To go near a shredder.
* I feel totally comfortable making fun my dad of because he never reads this blog of his own free will - his fault.
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