Rapunzel Ain't Nothin' But A Show Off...

Dear Hair,

Hurry up and grow. I know you're growing as fast as you can, but I am eyeballing the baby bio and thinking if it works for tomatoes impatient. I am looking at her Royal Hairiness herself, Girls World, through squinted peepers, you know the kind they use in westerns before someone has to draw. Glossy as the day is long, no follicle vexation in her future, just an ever growing mane sprouting from the crown of her head. No matter how many times my niece takes a scissors to it, out pops another foot in seconds.

At the moment you are neither short nor long and I feel like I am channeling my geography teacher from 91. We're not even talking eighties, but the look of a woman from a decade so dull no one can name a single good song or item of apparel they would want to repeat. Oh nineties, you are the equivalent of boiled cauliflower in the arsenal of Father Time and I am the poster child for the ghost of geography teachers past.


I cut my fringe today in an attempt to make the rest of you look longer, we just about diverted tragedy, then, a slip of the sneaky scissors resulted in an homage to Mo, not Tucker, I'm talking Stooges, as in three of them, pass the horn I need to honk...

Yours sincerely,