I thought long and hard, “What can I blog about that would help lighten our collective moods?” Laughter always helps me forget my troubles, if only for a minute or two. To that end, I hereby lay my dignity on the line with my own bad hair day.
The weight of worry these past weeks had, apparently, occupied the part of my brain designated for self-care. Then one day I looked up from brushing my teeth. What I saw caught me by surprise. I’d actually forgotten to wash my own hair for over a week. WHAT? I forgot about how I looked? What a unique concept!
[Note to self: Enlarge “Forgot to Wash” image and print. Tack up on fridge. Putting it there, next to the coffee maker, is the laugh-aid I need before checking for virus updates.]
Fast forward a week to my last salon haircut for-who-knows-how-long. He cut it extra short to prolong the period between cuts and I now look presentable. Thank you, Jason. When I speculated how many “wild heads” there’d be out there in the coming months, including amateurs with scissors in their hands, he pointed instead to the bigger problem, gray roots. Then went on to describe the horror of DIY dyeing. Maybe bright orange, perhaps “unintended” black, then all those appointments to correct the damage.
I don’t imagine men will care as much about enforced shagginess, and some will even celebrate. But women are a different story. Maybe we’ll finally discover that people like us anyway, perfect hair or not. Or maybe they’ll even like us more because of it. In any case, hat sales will soar!
I fantasize a weird and wonderful outcome when our mutual disheveled-ness brings us all closer together. Personally, I’d welcome more images of bad hair days instead of the “aren’t I beautiful” shots that are constantly in my face.
There’s something about laughing at myself that’s always so freeing. It makes me question whether my imperfections could be the best part of myself.
Weeded out this week: Vanity. I harbor more than I realized and have been my own wakeup call.