On Monday, running insanely late for work, I got out of the shower and realized the worst thing had happened to me that could possibly happen to a gay man.
I was out of hair product.
It was either leave for work right then, however, or get fired, so I pretended I was in an action movie set somewhere in the jungles of Laos, where there were far more important things than hair product, like saving the lives of thousands of innocent civilians.
This pretense failed miserably, however, since deep in my heart I knew the truth: there is nothing more important than hair product.
Within two minutes of my getting to work, three people had complimented me on my hair and said I should wear it like that more often. Since I make all my decisions based on getting other people’s praise, I have not worn hair product since then.
I feel so naked and vulnerable. What’s to protect me from the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune if I can’t knock down a concrete wall with my hair?
It’s OK, it’s falling out anyway.
This reminds me of how lucky I am to be follically challenged – hence the #1 crop.
Before, every day was Bad Hair Day for my unruly mane.