SOMEBODY GET ME A BRUSH!

In the almost four months that I've lived in the "south," I've watched my hair get bigger and bigger. As I put my basket o' hair crap back under my bathroom sink yesterday morning, and as I caught my reflection on the mirror, I said to myself, "You might just need clearance from the FAA for that hair-do, girlfriend!"

I made up my mind right then and there that I'd not yet reached critical mass with the hair, but as soon as I started seeing clumping eye lashes in the theme of Tammy Faye ... well, it would then be time to put me out of my misery.

I headed to school and was actually feeling pretty good about the hair ... until a fourth grader passed by me and said, " I really like your hair!"

"Oh thank you, honey!" I smiled back, feeling oddly validated by someone wearing the word ANGEL on her butt.

"I really, really want my hair like yours."

"What a compliment! Thank you."

"I think you look like Mariah Carey."

[Insert a very loud screeching of brakes sound here!]

"Excuse me, honey?" I steadied myself against the wall.

"Mariah Carey. I think you look JUST like her!" And off she skipped down the hallway. Meanwhile, I fell into a puddle on the floor, whimpering, "I look like a skank .... someone get me a brush! I've got to comb this all out ... NOW!"

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