|Yes, that's my hair. No, that's not all that came out.|
Ah, to be able to part my hair to the side without a big bald spot staring people in the face.
I love my hair, you know. And it’s times like this (bald) that I appreciate it the most. My hair was my claim to fame in high school (I rocked a Crystal Gayle like the business!). Barring a treacherous not-quite-Dorothy-Hamill haircut (thanks, Mom), and a bad home perm that made my bangs look like I put a Kielbasa on my head (again: thanks, Mom), I haven’t had too many bad hair days – it’s been pretty easy for me in this department.
Now, my favorite ways to wear my hair (piled in a top knot on my head, pulled back in a greasy bun, or falling out of my head) means I have a bad hair every day.
And now, some kitchen sink love: