Dear, dear desperate hostess:
I think it’s time we had an assessment of where we are before I start leaving in clumps. What exactly is the plan? Let me guess. A different product? The last four in as many weeks didn’t work, so why not? The expensive stuff should have worked, right? For tweny-two dollars that should have bought us both some salvation, if even three ounces worth. But that was a paste, maybe too tacky. I looked like Martin Short’s hair in a wind storm. We went to wax briefly. It was more a flirtation than a fling. But that was second hand men’s travel Crew from your sister so how much could we expect of that? Back to the beauty supply store we go, pretending to be a beautician who forgot her id. No one has ever tried that, so I was shocked when that plan failed. I think I stood a little on end. Even with your nonchalance no big deal, I’ll remember it next time….Nothing from stone-face behind the register.
The one from the salon didn’t work. Great brand name, everyone was impressed but me. I was completely fascinated when you oscillated between helmet-head (tamed? More like beat-down and broken) and electrocution. Messy and sassy? Really? The headline should have read, “Deranged woman tries to avoid being institutionalized.”
Trying the cheap products has to give you some relief. You can tell yourself that they shouldn’t work. Curling gel? Hair appears to be too long and only one side curls. Curling mousse? I thought mousse went out with the curling iron.
Now we find ourselves trying to go a little longer. Not that I have any say in it. Dan likes me longer. This coming from a man with a buzz cut. Cathy likes me shorter. I was cute when we turned 40. Those were the days. That was twenty pounds ago too. Maybe it’s your weight holding us all down. Keep telling yourself I will respond when you add some color again. “How to disguise your failure for one hundred ten dollars.” Not including the required hair product.