Hair we go again

— Susan Rigby, Guest Columnist Join Wimberley humorist Susan Rigby as she attempts to navigate “the small stuff.”

I spend an inordinate amount of time looking at people’s heads. I’ll admit it. I have hair-envy. Yes, I do have hair, but no. I don’t have hair that people look at with envy. I was “blessed” with thin, wispy, semiwavy hair. I think it’s from my mother, but since she always wears a wig, I can’t be certain.

My hair is so bad that I recently took a trip and when I went into the Travel Welcome Center and told them I had a dog with me, she automatically assumed it was a service dog. Do they have service dogs for the hair impaired? No matter how almost presentable I get my hair to look at the beginning of the day, thanks to product overload, by lunch time I look like I just rushed into the fast food drivethrough madly pushing my shopping cart.

By the time I got home from my trip, I knew I had to do something. Most people would make an appointment with a stylist, and I did try. One said they were busy — for months, even years, one kept answering the phone saying, “Joe’s Auto Repair and HomeLoans” and one said the last stylist who saw me was still in counseling.

My options were limited. I was either going to cut my hair really short and let each twoinch section wave to whomever they pleased, or I could give myself a perm. The Hair Fairy must have rushed into high gear, because for some reason, I could not find my curling rods. Luckily just after the Hair Fairy’s bedtime, I found them and started on the perm-fix. It took hours, but I was sure the results would be great.

Sadly, I’ve become Little Orphan Annie’s old, slightly off aunt, but at least I have a controlled head of tightly wound, but somewhat angry waves. I wonder if I can borrow one of my mother’s wigs?