Previously on The Real Hairstyles of San Francisco, the Lord & Master opined that my short ‘do was kinda lezzy. Well, after coming home with the latest version of said coiffure, I was greeted by……the stony sounds of silence. Not a peep. Nothing. Na-goddam-da, to quote Daddy. Not even the backhanded, “If you like it, that’s all that matters.”
Of course, Mama Jeanne was devestated to learn I’d cut my locks again. She suggested I resurrect my 80’s look, which involved both a perm and highlights created by a plastic torture cap with teeny holes. Um, no thanks. Times have changed, Mah. And who is she to squawk, when she kept me so shorn as a kid that even the hairdresser suggested piercing my ears so no one would mistake me for a boychick? Actually, he was a trainee at some Academy de Beaute in the bowels of Hackensack. Meanwhile, Mah continues to sport a straw textured homage to the little Dutch boy with his finger in the dike.
Killjoys be damned, I love my short hair. It’s simple, chic, and I can “do” it myself, even with the innumerable cowlicks crowding my head.
I like it, and that’s all that matters.