I thought it was the most romantic thing when (fictional) Samantha's (fictional) boyfriend Smith shaved his head when she lost her hair to chemo in (fictional) Sex and the City.
Sigh. Now, I know it's easier for a guy to do it. Bald heads are even kinda in. Nonetheless, that's what I wanted to do for my hero. Cut off my hair when he lost his. And I found a real-life place that accepts hair to make wigs for chemo patients.
My hair is indeed long enough and I was so ready for a noble, selfless act. Until I learned from Locks for Love that bleached hair doesn't make the cut. When I complained about their pickiness, my hero just told me not to waste my hair. It was a lovely thought, he assured me, and my motive was good. Even though he claims my 'do reminds him of Eric Idle circa 1985, he admits he didn't want me to cut it off.
And it's blonde for a reason. Forget the "blondes have more fun" thing. I already proved that wrong when I went blond in college. Had as much fun as when I was light brown. Now it's all about the gray. Not that I'm old. I surely am not. But...with two young-adult children and a toddling grandson, anyone can figure out I'm, well, not thirty-something any more.
But I am air-headed and disorganized no matter how hard I try. This care-giver thing really strains my abilities, or lack thereof. So it got me thinking: maybe the dumb-blonde rep is real. Maybe it's because the bleach poisons our brain cells.
Dunno. But I found a cute joke that I thought I'd use to conclude:
A blonde decided to go horseback riding. As she mounted a spirited stallion, the horse sprang to action, causing the blonde to slip from the saddle. Grabbing the horse's mane, she hung on for dear life, then switched to an arm lock around the horse's neck.
Finally she fell off. Her foot caught in the stirrup as her head bounced on the ground. She was mere moments away from unconsciousness when to her great fortune--
The Target store manager saw her and shut the horse off.
Bye for now. Today was a bit better day. We're moving out of the nadir, or lowest point of a cycle. So my hero will be rarin' to go for Easter Brunch.