That hair, what WAS she thinking?

Yes, I'm fully aware that as of late I have gained enormous issues with hair. I also realize that the very same question is no doubt reeling through minds of the general public regarding my hair. Considering my head has not seen a sharp edge in many, many months and my hair is growing wildly, without the first hint of direction. (I am still very unclear as to why this is.) Just the same their thoughts are justified.

Nevertheless, let me say this. As I stroll up the sidewalk of the local library with my daughter, I look up. OMM, I'm aghast at what I see. There is a woman that is sporting the Hiroshima. Yes, that's right, that's the one, the most infamous mushroom cloud in history was on her head. This relatively slender woman with a giraffe like neck had this less than flattering 'shroom cut. My question is why? I mean really, what was she thinking as she sat in the chair of the stylist and placed her order? "I'd like the look of history please."

( imagine the above with light blue pleated shorts and white tank)

As I follow this nuclear cloud inside the building of the written word I take notice of her daughter. (you see where this is going?) This little what I'm sure they think is an angel looked to be somewhere in the neighborhood of 18 months old. Being maybe near cute, I look closer and notice again yes the hair. Ok, not much better than Moms. Yellow blonde, insanely thin and every unit of measure on a rule in it's length. My first thought was the scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz, minus the hat. She was however, donning a cock-eyed pony tail that consisted of 7 maybe 8 strands of hair. Mom having the fashion sense she does when it comes to the styling of the doo strategically places it in the front of her head. Again, I must ask why?

The kid I understand has an excuse, her hair hasn't fully come in yet. But for Mom I recommend maybe one of those programs that you download a picture of yourself and try different styles before going forward with the real thing.

Hair style is the final tip-off whether or not a woman really knows herself.

~Hubert de Givenchy, Vogue, July 1985