Hair We Go...

Dear Hair,

We have had a lot of interesting times together over the years. I do apologize for my Metallica phase where I shaved the bottom of my head and made you very short for a very long period of time, while keeping the rest of the mane long and gnarly. In retrospect, I do agree with you that that could be considered a reverse-mullet, and it probably didn't look as cool as I thought it did.

I also apologize for my tween years when I let Grandma Lorraine perm it and then promptly put a Pebbles-pony smack dab in the middle of the top of our head. Whoops.

I don't feel an apology is necessary for dying you "rocket-fire red" when I was 16-ish because I still think that was way cool and ballsy of me.

But now it's your turn to apologize to ME. I'm done believing that all this shedding is part of being pregnant and nursing or whatever. The baby is 5 months old, and your jig is up. I'm so tired of seeing you dropping everywhere. I am tired of FINDING you everywhere. I have found you in food, underneath my saggy boobs, in the baby's diaper, and in the snowman I was building with Brynn. I am tired of having hairy webbed hands in the shower, and I'm tired of the sink looking like it's wearing a toupee when I get done brushing you.

If you insist upon this silly and stupid game, I will stop cleaning you and I will stop making you look all pretty. Have you seen G.I. Jane? Have you heard about Brittney Spears? I will take matters into my own hands.

Be good now. This was your last warning.

Regards,

Kimberlie