Wednesday, March 21, 2007

Open letter to myself


Hey. Remember back in high school when you got really sick of your hair and couldn't wait the two weeks for the hair appointment your mother scheduled and you thought "Wow. I bet I could cut my hair myself. No biggie, right?"

Yeah. It is a biggie. Remember how you washed your hair and then trimmed your bangs? And remember the shock when you realized that hair shrinks when it dries? Remember how that really annoying Bernie A started calling you "Victim?" As in a victim of a truck running over your face? Remember the guy in Perkins who saw you and said "God, I hate punks (as in punk rock)?" Remember when you decided you couldn't stand your widow's peak so you decided to shave it and since then it has been a completely different length than the rest of your bangs? Does any of this sound familiar?

It does? Well, that's good. Glad to know that turning 40 hasn't resulted in memory loss along with every freakin' other thing that's gone wrong with you.

So here's my question, Dana. If you remember this, why did you think it would be a good idea to cut your bangs without benefit of a mirror? And when you did remember you had a mirror, why didn't you actually look at your hair? And why didn't you listen to Co-worker's John's pleas that you stop and his threat to tell his wife since she is a hair dresser and how she'll probably end up coming into work on her day off just to fix it? Why? You are aware of the spot where your widow's peak shows through again, right? And no, you cannot shave it. Or cut the rest of your hair short enough to match it.

And for the love of God, dye your hair already. Gray hair in pig tails just doesn't look right.

Have a great day, you dork.