Chirky

Roger has noticed that I haven't been wearing my hair down a lot lately. This
causes him severe anxiety, and his eyes pop out of his head while he chases me
around the house, trying to discover how my long hair disappeared. When I start
wearing my hair in buns and ponytails all the time, I know that it is time to
visit my hair stylist. Or, Roger knows that it is time and makes an appointment
for me.

Thank God for husbands, or my hair would be down to my ankles in a long, ratty
mess. That, or chopped off ridiculously short and sassy.

Last night was my appointment with Kris, my stylist. Of course, his name is
spelled uniquely because he's a stylist. What's more, he's gay. We spent the
entire appointment discussing homosexuals, his family, his boyfriend, Roger, my
hair, blogs and Vegas. I'm not so sure that I should have put his boyfriend and
Roger so close together in that sentence. Please don't confuse the two.

Kris is the only person who has the capability to straighten my hair without
making me crazy. I can't do it, thus the reason that I am on meds. Or, now that
I am on meds, perhaps I should try. But, my dosage is conservative, and I'd
really like to prevent myself from having to up the ante, so maybe I shouldn't
try it.

Last night after Kris washed, massaged, and cut my hair, he asked if I wanted it
styled straight or curly. Since I wear it curly all the time, I decided to see
how it would look straight.

Let me rephrase: I decided to see how it would look straight, and shiny and
silky. Not straight, like it turns out when I try it on my own: wavy, frizzy,
and in desperate need of being re-wet and never attempted again.

I slept very delicately last night so that I wouldn't make a mess of it, and
gingerly took a shower this morning in very cold water (read: not 104 degrees)
so that the humidity wouldn't make it curl up again. Then I brushed it, and
voila! I'm ready for work!

I took a picture of myself with my camera when I got to work, so now you'll know
what I look like with straight hair. I hope this is sufficient:

Look! It's me! You can tell that I am holding the camera in one hand, because my
right shoulder is slightly higher than the other. We have lots of extra black
paper hanging around the office, so I just decorated my walls with it for a
backdrop. I looked to the left, then flipped my head around really quickly to
get my hair in a "spray" fashion. Also, I have really high-quality fluorescent
bulbs in my ceiling, and the light is reflected in my hair. You can tell because
a cross is perfectly formed in my hair, showing just how shiny it is. I barely
managed to flip my hair, pucker my lips in a half-smile and look straight into
the camera before clicking it.

I'm so lucky that I have such photographic hair. Aren't you glad that you can be
friends with me?