At work, there is a young person. Whenever they walk by our cubicles, we crones stare at them.
“Look at all that hair!” says my co-worker under her wistfully. She just bought $1000 worth of hair from India.
I don’t have that kinda money. As I paw the few remaining hairs I have left on my head, I realize, SOMEBODY’S GOT TO WARN THE CHILDREN!
CHILDREN SAVE YOUR HAIR IN BAGS! BEFORE IT ALL DISAPPEARS!
Your hair will never be as full and shiny as it is right now, children. I remember in my youth tying my hair up in scrunchies to get all my mess of curls “out of the way”. Out of the way? OUT OF THE WAY OF WHAT? This hurts to think about now. I can no longer support the weight of anything called a scrunchie. There’s not enough to scrunch up there anymore. It all just strand by strand, disappeared.
Look at this picture of Juice Newton below. LOOK AT ALL THAT HAIR! (this is pornography for old people btw sorry). I’m not going to post a picture of her hair situation now. She is a wonderful artist. She is lovely. I’m not saying she needs to have hair so much hair. Or that anyone needs to have hair to be attractive. BUT CAN I HAVE A TIME MACHINE AND BAG ALL THAT HAIR AND PUT IT ON MY HEAD NOW? (also I love that vest and the boots)
Children, this is what you have to do. Grow your hair out. Wait for a friend to go: “OMG your hair is soooo long now.” Then cut your hair and put it in a ziploc very carefully. Tie it with velvet ribbon. Freeze it. Then find a wig master. They probably live in the mountains. Do odd jobs for them for a year and in exchange one day they will make you a magical wig of your own luscious locks for your future.
Don’t think it’s not going to happen to you. No one over 40 has hair. We are all spraypainting on dust that looks like hair or we are winding one long piece around our whole head hoping you won’t notice. You cannot escape this fate. Save your hair, children! In a resealable bag!
I wish I had! I would be warmer!