Two weeks ago, I got my hair trimmed, layered in the front, and blow-dried in such a way that it actually looked pretty good. I know it must have looked all right, because my grandmother, with whom I was dining that night, said, “Oh, my! Don’t you look beautiful!”
I tried unsuccessfully to brush wispy bangs out of my eye and replied with a grimace, “Take it in while you can, Grandma, because this is the last time it’s going to look this good until the next time I have to get it trimmed.”
Still, the next time I saw her, she exclaimed in disappointment, “What happened to your bangs? They looked so nice!”
I shrugged. “I went with the wash-and-wait-for-Denver’s-dry-climate-to-air-dry-it look, Grandma. And besides, they were getting in my eyes. I like ’em a lot better pulled back with the rest of this mop.”
Alas for my grandmother, who…
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