I finished my job last week, and I’m basically retired at the moment. This is the first time in my adult life I’ve been able to do this and not freak out about money. It’s kinda nice. I might take up golf. Probably not, though.
I am enjoying the free time, anyway. Yesterday, I went to get my hair done. It was all overgrown and shrub-like, and my one gray hair was shining through. Of course, it’s along my part, where it shows up the most. I have friends who pull out their gray hair, but I’m more afraid of snatching myself baldheaded than I am of going gray. In fact, I’m fairly terrified of going bald anyway, which is funny, since I’ve got a ton of hair. Still, I think it’s important to have a long list of ridiculous things to worry about, and going bald is fairly high up on mine, after getting so fat that a talk show host has to knock out one wall of my home in order to rescue me and send me to fat camp, and before, interestingly enough, losing my mind.
In the interests of preserving my sanity, I decided to ask to my hair stylist if she thought my hair was looking thin, especially along the hair-line near the part.
“You know what I worry about?” I began tentatively. She was shampooing my hair rather vigorously at the time, which is good for your scalp and also makes you kinda drooly and relaxed.
She collapsed with laughter. “Are you kidding me?”
“No! Haven’t you ever seen them, the bald ladies? You know? You must’ve, in your line of work. With the thin, poofed up hair? All see-through, like Wonder Woman’s jet?”
She shook her head. “Man, you’re crazy. You know that there are only two reasons why women go bald, right? One is heredity. The other is stress. So why don’t you quit worrying about stupid stuff like this, and then maybe your hair won’t fall out.”
I really like my hair stylist.