March comes in like a lion and out like a lamb.  It happens every year.  The wind is blowing 40 miles an hour outside.  It's west Texas windy today, and even the birds aren't flying.  They're all in their swaying nests thinking, "Da'yam!  Grab the babies!  I need to pee and fly and sing...what the HELL?!"

For me, it's not that 'the answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind.'  It's my HAIR!  I've finally learned how to use 'product' in my hair, then this.  My hair is so straight and fine that, when left to its own devices, it lays flat on my head like a wet, silk handkerchief.  That might be okay if my head weren't already misshapen with cowlicks where I don't want them and a set of bangs that I'm growing out that now cover my eyes like beaded curtains in a French whore house.

But, our BFF, Sweet Pea, who just happens to be the daughter of a licensed beautician, taught me how to plaster the roots of my dry hair with a gooey, sticky white substance in a jar...and then spray the shit out of it after I've used my curling iron.  It looks pretty damn good when I do that...until the wind blows.  I think I've created a hair helmet that is impenetrable, but with winds at 40 mph, there are strays that get loose, straighten out and look like I've stuck bird feathers willy nilly to my scalp.  It's a dead giveaway that my hair doesn't really look so perfect on any other given day.  It's humiliating, and there's nothing I can do but try to tuck those patches back into the hair helmet.

I know I'm not alone here.  You people with naturally curly hair can just kiss my ass because this is not a worry for you.  Granted, your hair blows, but in nice wavy sections that then fall right back in place between gusts.  I curse the day you were born (SalGal!).

So, wind, wind go away...come again some other day.  Can't I have one friggin season of peace?  Summer will only bring humidity that births the wet, silk handkerchief syndrome again.  But, here's the thing.  I can't cut my hair off because then people call me Tom or Dick or Harry.  Crap!

KK