Dear Hair: You're Cut Off

This is not me. I totally have more hair.

... In my armpits.

Dear Hair,

I'm cutting you off. No, really. I'm so over you.

We'd be cool if you weren't so problematic. If you gave me some kind of special powers, like Samson in the Bible, I'd let you hang around. Or if you were beautiful and obedient and fell gracefully around my shoulders like a silky, sweetly-scented curtain ... that'd be all right. Or if you were, like, awe-inspiring because you looked like a shampoo commercial and people were all, "Oh, I love your hair!" and I was all, "Thanks, I just wash and go!" and people were like, "Lucky biatch" but under their breath so I couldn't hear that they were like totally jealous. THEN you could stick around.

Sadly, though, that's not the case. Here's the thing, Hair: you're much (much much) more trouble than you're worth.

You're so long that I can't even twist you into a bun any more without it looking like I'm smuggling a small pumpkin on the back of my head. Pretty much all I can do is pull you into a (raggedy) ponytail. I can't wear you loose and flowing because you're the texture of an electrocuted sheep, and to flat-iron you takes like an hour and I get all sweaty because hello, straightening irons are super hot and thanks to your ridiculous thickness I have to turn it up all the way. Hmph.

And speaking of ponytails: I know mine is too long when it gets caught in my pits while I exercise. Seriously, Hair? Why you wanna flap around so much? I do a good enough job of looking moronic during Zumba without accidentally clamping my pits down on my own hair. There's enough in there already, thanks. (What?? If I shave every day, I get red bumps.)

While we're on the subject of how you can improve, Hair, how about looking a little less like you came straight off a horse's ass? The dry rough bristly ends just aren't doing it for me. If I were trying to cultivate my own paintbrush it'd be all good, but if I needed a paintbrush I'd just buy one at the store. And those little baby hairs that keep sprouting up along my hairline? Why is it that they never seem to grow long enough to not stick out, Hair? Is it some sort of a "let's consistently make Rita look like crap" conspiracy?

The only reason you're still around is because I don't know what to do with you. Because a.) you have a stupid swirly cowlick right in the middle of my forehead which pretty much negates the chance for cute sideswept bangs, which is what like EVERY cute style features these days, and b.) my face looks like a gumball and I'm trying to decide on a 'do that won't accentuate that fact.

So yeah, Hair, you could say I'm a little grumpy.

You might be getting a dye job too - just warning you now. Because ever since I hit the big 3-0, you're cranking out as fast as Charlie Sheen goes through hookers and coke and stupid sayings. And that, Hair, is not what I'd call #winning.


Thanks for keeping me a little warmer this winter. I guess.*
*Although I think it was mostly due to those short, stupid hairs on the back of my neck that make it look like my ears are trying to grow sideburns on the wrong side.

 
Sincerely,