So I was supposed to go and get my haircut today. I can't stand it anymore. It's in my eyes all the time. Old people call me "the beautiful little girl" all the time. It frizzes on humid days. It's out of control.
Once Mom and Dad starting betting on how many people would refer to me as a girl on each of our plane rides to visit California Grammie and Pap-pap, I knew I had to get this mop chopped.
When we got back and found out that Dad would have today off for the day of mourning for former President Ford, Mom scheduled an appointment to snip the goldie-locks. Or so she said.....
Mysteriously, the "appointment" was "canceled" this morning because my hairstylist's (er... barber's) daughter Gracie was sick today (get the title now?) . Hmmmmmmmm. Seems fishy to me. And I was so excited I couldn't sleep last night.... or the night before.... or the night before..... Dad may be unaware that its the new year since the last week is kinda a blur to him... but that's another story.
Also conveniently, Mom and I are going out of town again this week to visit Aunt Steph, so I'm not gonna be able to get this taken care of until next week at the earliest. Sigh. I guess I'll just have to start wearing barrettes. And a dress.
Wait, do ya hear that? The phone's ringing. It is probably Farrah Fawcet calling to ask for her hair back. It's hard to make another Charlie's Angels movie without "the wings."
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