Bad Hair Day

No, not the day I took the above picture. That is of me in full costume prior to a Nutcracker performance. I probably had about a pound of hair spray in my hair to hold it in place and about the same weight in make-up on my face.
So, as anyone with short hair knows there are three stages to a haircut.
1) Just cut--a bit too short and raw to be at its best.
2) A few weeks later--just right. It has grown out just enough. This phase is the shortest of the three.
3) Waited too long to get it cut again--it is looking shaggy and flies in the eyes at inconvenient times.

I'm at stage 3. I'm resorting to hair spray, hair gel, various bobby pins and clips to keep it out of my eyes and off my face. My secretary tells me it looks good but I doubt it. Then yesterday, I get told: "Your hair looks like granny hair." Nothing like the honesty of a disinhibited 12 year old. I pretended to be crushed but actually thought it was funny. Getting unsolicited, honest opinions about one's appearance is an occupational hazard. It pays to have a sense of humor.
My hair is what it is and you can't hurt my feelings by mocking it. It doesn't hold a style because it is straight and fine. This is good by me because I can't be bothered to take the time to style it. I generally let it drip dry. In a Chicago winter, sometimes it freezes before it dries.
The one perm I ever had (in my misbegotten youth) required two rounds to "take" and returned to straight by the next day. My hair comes in three styles: short, medium and long. Oh, and then there was the day I walked into a Supercuts while I was in college and said I wanted it short. I walked out with a one inch cut. I looked very punk for a couple of weeks and then it grew out. It also grows fast. My hairdresser has long given up on offering me tints, waves and other adornments. He'll probably give me a hard time when I show up for my next overdue cut. In the meantime there will be lots of bad hair days.