Of Locks That Lick

My hair has jumped the shark.

I knew it was coming. I knew I was approaching the no-go zone, that point at which it becomes unkempt, unsightly, and, yes, even unhip.

I thought I'd heard a giant splat on Monday. It must have been my hair belly-flopping in the pool of cool. Done, man. Done like dinner.

This whole week has been spent zombie-walking through the land of the fashionably dead. I have no right having a soapbox to the masses right now. No, the masses ought to be instructing me if I can have hair this bad.

An EMT has been scheduled in for 9:00 Monday morning. Then my ego will some rescuing.

I tried to get in sooner. "It's an emergency," I implored.

"No can do. Christmas. We're closing soon."

You see, being the financially-challenged writer I am, I'm thrifty with my pretty little pennies and I've started to go to an upscale training school where I pay a fraction of the cost the kids'll cost three months later working for the salon of the same name.

But I haven't had a cut in months. Like, four months. I tell you, my ego's so low to the ground right now that if anyone wanted to crush it, they'd be having to curb it instead. (Curb: v. foot meets head meets curb, owner of head meets maker. So to speak.)

But that's okay. A haircut will change everything. And for anyone having the fluffy foo-foo thoughts of "it's what's inside that counts", honey, you ain't done seen this hair.

I look like a bull dyke who doesn't need to look for sex anymore. That's what. But, hey, I've been trying to grow it out. I'm going for something softer and more feminine than my old shorter, punkier 'do.

I wrote down a couple dozen words I think of when I think of what I want. I'll take it in to the dresser and make sure they're good'n'inspired.

Then, with a nice, good 'do, I expect I may actually care about getting dating again. Like I said, I sorta started dating, but it was a flop. One day, I may tell you more about it beyond the cell phone saga, but today is not that day. When I am cuter, I will want to date. Then maybe I'll get some wheels on this track again.

My belly demands dinner. Wish I had me some of that turkey my southern neighbours are indulging in today.