When I was a kid my mom forced a bowl haircut on me. Like many kids cursed with this fuckin' thing, I did not like it. But I had to deal with it. As I got older, and I was under Grandma's watch instead of Mom's, I dared to ask if I could change my hairdo. A barber had told my mom that I had a few parts in my hair, so I could do whatever I wanted to do with it.
I chose to have it combed back with a part in the middle of my head. To my surprise Grandma let me do it that way.
And it has been my haircut ever since then. Until, for some reason unbeknownst to me, now.
Within the last couple of weeks my hair has decided it no longer wants to be parted in the middle. I'm used to my hair having a mind of its own. I swear, I comb my hair every morning before I leave for work, and it stays that way until I step outside. Then it does whatever it pleases.
And now, at the age of 44, after decades of not changing, my hair wants to be parted from the left side of my head. I've tried fighting it several ways, but there is nothing I can do about it. My hair has spoken. So it is written, so it is done.
Dammit.
Hey, next GF is going to be #500. Holy shit. Tune in on Monday to see whatever the fuck I'm going to do with this.
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