Bigfoot Comb Overs

The hair on my head is falling out in hunks.  I'm afraid to comb it, or wash it, or even look at it in the mirror, because the second I do I'm holding a fistful of dark brown in my hands. Elvis is leaving the building.

Eye lashes, eye brows, too.

My friend Evil Laura, who is terrified of loose hair, asked me kindly to not send any to her.  I've only been threatening to do that since we were in college, because I was that crazy back in the day.  I got the idea from Ozzy Osbourne, who was reported to have shaved his head and sent all of his hair to his wife in a fit of pique. I assured my friend that I had no intention of sending her a random box of my hair at any point in the near future.  I'm not sure that she believed me, but I'm just so discombobulated about losing my hair that it never occurred to me. I'm not upset about my looks, I just didn't expect it to happen so fast.  

Larry's been very helpful in pointing out the bald patches, since I can't see the back of my head.  It was an opportune moment to explain to Zane what was happening, so he would be prepared.  Zane thought the whole thing was cool, and he helpfully grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled.  I let him; this is part of the process, and I want him to have a realistic picture, while shielding him from the worst parts. 

Why don't I just shave my head, like everyone else struck with this malady?  Good question.  Part of it is just sheer stubbornness on my part, because I was secretly an optimist, thinking that maybe I'd defeat the odds and keep my hair.  The other part is...we can't remember where we put the hair clippers.  They've disappeared, poof! in a box of something probably marked "kitchen supplies".  It's been that long since we've used it.

So my hair is falling out. I'll put on a hat or a wig and deal.

The hair on my legs?  THAT hair looks just gorgeous.  I don't even want to shave it, it looks so pretty.  The hair on my arms is looking downright svelte, too.  And my nose hair?  Growing like Rapunzel's locks right out of my nostrils.  In fact, I have found myself staring into the mirror lately, contemplating some very creative comb overs.  Like Bigfoot, perhaps I could disguise myself in nose hair and skulk quietly through my day.  I could start some sort of hair trend, Bigfoot chic? 

It could be bigger than the kerfluffle over Jennifer Aniston's hairdo. 

Red Writing Hood: And Her Glory Shone All Around

Prompt: This week we’d like you to write a piece about hair. It can be about you or one of your characters where hair figures prominently. Don’t just describe it. Use it as a vehicle to tell us something about your character, a situation, you and your life. This is a continuation of my dragon story, here.

A dragon!

Drawn by the light of an enormous fire, Arik watched the dragon from his hiding place in the forest. He had witnessed the change from dragon to woman, stunned. He had stared in disbelief as she stumbled from the fire and crawled to the cooling waters of the lake. As she rose from the water to stand, smoke rolled away from her pale skin, and all was revealed to Arik in the moonlight.

He was transfixed.

Even wet, the dragon’s new hair caught the firelight and consumed it, until the rich obsidian waves seemed to glow in the darkness. Arik could not take his eyes off of the thick, rippling waves of hair that undulated down her shoulders to her waist. Her hair seemed to be a living entity, enticing in its sensuality. He wanted to grab those locks, to feel them flow over the bare skin of his hands. The urge was so visceral that Arik clenched his hands into fists, feeling those tresses slide through his fingers. He drew in a breath.

At his inhalation, the dragon turned slowly toward the darkness surrounding his hiding place, as if she could see Arik, or feel the weight of his stare. Her eyes glowed. He froze.

“I know that you are there, human.” To Arik’s ears, the dragon’s voice was melted chocolate. She held out an open hand toward him.

“Come.”

I should be afraid, he thought. No one would have called him coward for running. Instead, he was intrigued.

He stepped out of the forest and walked toward her.

Hair Therapy

I need a haircut. I need one bad, but I am not sure what kind of haircut I want just yet, so I am holding out as long as I can. Having a great haircut is so very important to my confidence that I feel like I need to be cautious about my decision. I've made bad decisions about my hair before, like that time when I thought I could cut my own hair, but I'd like to think that I learn from my mistakes.

Every woman needs to have a good relationship with the person who cuts their hair. A good relationship starts with trust. My "second longest committed relationship with a man I am not related to"(the first being my OB-GYN) was with the man who cut my hair. My 'hair therapist', I called him. All I would need to do is sit in the chair and talk to him about football and movies, and he always knew exactly what I wanted. And he didn't charge me bajillions of dollars, either. (Clue: if you pay more than 50$ for a haircut, you are not paying for the haircut, but something else.) We had twelve wonderful years together...and then the bastard dumped me, and most of his other clients, to go gallivanting around Louisiana. I'm sure Billy had his reasons, but I'm still a bit irritated that it was so easy for him to run off.

I wasn't heartbroken so much as discombobulated. After all that time with someone who always seemed to know exactly what I wanted, how was I supposed to find that kind of trust again? I decided to try a woman this time around. I walked out of several different sessions with several different stylists, not really happy. It sort of felt like I was dating again! I finally found Nancy, and she gave me a wonderful haircut, a bob. I was very happy with it, and felt it was flattering.

Until I started immediately noticing that EVERYONE on the planet had the exact same haircut. I am not kidding. Old ladies, little kids, you name it--they all had bobs. I went into a restaurant one day--and there was a table of six women, all with the SAME haircut. OMG. O.M.G. It was like I was in some sort of gawdawful horror movie where I kept running into bad replicas of me.

So I went back to Nancy and I told her straight up that I did NOT want to look like every other idiot in town. I wanted something different. And she agreed...and I walked out of there with the exact same haircut, only longer. *sigh*

There must be a hair style that will look good on me that 95% of the female population doesn't also have. I don't have to look like Angelina Jolie(*snicker*--like that would ever happen without serious plastic surgery and a wheelbarrow full of makeup) but I would like to at least look presentable. Also, I have about twenty minutes to get ready in the morning so it would have to be a hairstyle that is easy to fix and easy to care for. I have baby fine, straight hair that I would like to wear at medium length. Surely this isn't a problem for someone who knows how to cut hair?

So I guess I'm in the market for a new relationship with a new 'hair therapist'. They don't have a "Match.com" for stylists, do they? Bummer.