The New Year snuck up on me too soon. I’m scrambling to figure out how to turn over a new leaf…not that I need to or anything. I’m rather comfortable with my leaf just the way it is. However, that attitude doesn’t seem to be politically correct. Evidently, society considers me a weirdo if I don’t publicly proclaim in gory detail how I intend to better myself in the upcoming year. Personally, I’d find it a more appealing prospect to be locked in stocks in the town square for a week while bystanders pelted me with rotten vegetables. However, succumbing to the societal expectations, I’m trying to figure out what I can offer to change without rippling my comfort zone too much.
If I were a woman, it would be a cinch. I’d just get a makeover.
The process is quite simple, from what I understand. First, she does something to her hair. She spends two hours locked in the bathroom with a hairdryer and Walmart bag full of lotions and potions from the Health and Beauty section. When she emerges, she looks like some sort of tropical bird has nested on her head. She has bangs and ringlets and feathered layers, or else some sort of puffy twirla-doo thingy dyed in “Chardonnay Shimmer” or “Moroccan Night”. Then she pesters her husband for an hour for his opinion of it. If he finally admits that it will take some getting used to, she bursts into tears and asks why he hates her. If he says it’s “nice, dear”, she demands to know what’s wrong with it. If he tells her it makes her look like Alessandra Ambrosio, she pouts and says he didn’t even look at it. Since I’m a guy, however, my only viable hairstyle alternatives are dreadlocks or a shaved, polished pate—or else a shaved polished pate with a single dreadlock coming out of the middle of it. Now there’s an idea!
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