Hair Today

I feel lighter, better.

Those mad flaps of hair that hung like two Daschund ears around my face are no more. The Bob Gone Wrong is now on my hairdresser's floor. I can see again without strands in my eyes. I will wake tomorrow without the sleep-induced static electricity that forces hair into my nostrils each and every morning, causing violent sneezes. And I will no longer look like every woman over age 50 who thinks she has to wear hair that conceals her jaw, however saggy, instead of enhancing her eyes and cheekbones.

The bob was cool when I was 17 (above). Even then, I had to sleep on rollers to achieve the effect.

But the pixie is Wash-n-Wear. Ready to go. I feel free. Just like my 10-year-old photo at right.

Now I just have to remember to keep my eyebrows plucked.