Fierce Attack Hair

My hair is curly. This seems to cause trouble for the people who cut it (and thus, for me). In the 70s, one haircutter tried (against my repeated entreaties) to give me a Dorothy Hamill bob, with the result that I looked like Bozo the clown until it grew out. It goes like that. Since gardening and hairstyling are two skills I seem almost genetically to lack, I need a simple cut that doesn't require maintenance: wash it, put "product" (one of those euphemisms that drives me a little wacky) in it, shake my head and get on with my life. It's amazine how many haircutters who think they know how to cut curly hair are flummoxed by this. I had a great haircutter when I worked at Tor...but she vanished. I had a good haircutter here, until about six months ago when he decided he wanted to do High Art Hair and Makeup (and I am decidedly low art). His replacement was okay. Then she left. Her replacement...well, the jury's still out on the haircut I got on Thursday. After a week of growing out, it may be fine; certainly her rationale for why she cut it the way she did was reasonable. But the undergrowth (that is, the hair under the top layer at the bottom, if you follow me) which has been revealed by her trimming seems to grow in no reasonable way, with the result that no matter what I do I look as if I backed into a wind tunnel. I'm giving it a week before I pronounce it the Worst. Haircut. Ever.

I know. It's frivolous in a world with election fraud and Darfur to be fretting over my hair. But every time I look in the mirror, there it is, and it's upsetting. The nice thing about hair is that 1) it grows out and 2) you don't have to go back to the same haircutter.