Hair. Beavers. (As in “hair and beavers.” Not “hair beavers.” That would be silly.)

I had a bad hair day today. 

That’s a misnomer. The phrase “bad hair day” implies “I’ve made every effort I possibly could to tame this mop, and everything has failed.”

What I had is an “I don’t give a f!@k” hair day. I woke up this morning, looked in the mirror, and thought to myself … “That works.” 

So I took a quick shower to clean my face and body but didn’t bother with the hair. Conventional wisdom has it that it’s healthy to not wash your hair every single day.

Conventional wisdom and I aren’t usually drinking buddies, but I like to save time when I’ve gotten out of bed late so I was cool with that. 

Until I got to work (on time) and looked in the mirror again. 

Either I was still asleep for my initial assessment or sometime during my 30-minute walk to work, a beaver couple moved into my hair and started a family. 

They’d left by noonish, but I can’t say it was an improvement. 

I worked two jobs today and interacted with lots of people. Admittedly, none of them asked me if my hair had been acting as a halfway home for beaver families. But they were thinking it. Don’t think I don’t know. 

It’s a superficial thing, maybe. But the fact is appearances do matter. How you FEEL matters even more, and I’m here to tell you, folks, feeling like a family of beavers is squatting in your hair does not make you feel like a professional. 

And the moral of this story is clearly that not everything I write on this blog has to mean something. 

One thought on “Hair. Beavers. (As in “hair and beavers.” Not “hair beavers.” That would be silly.)

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