Now I Know My Husband Hates My Hair

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.


One response to “Now I Know My Husband Hates My Hair

  1. I normally really like women with short hair… although that “80s look” does sound delightful too. Here’s a poem I wrote in forty-four seconds.

    You go short as short as you dare,
    Be proud of your hair.
    Do you know who was in the Exorcist?
    Linda Blair.

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