Tuesday, February 24, 2015

Fifi’s Feckless Follicles

     My hair wants to move to Florida. People say to us when we tell them we have our sights set on Sarasota that “only old people live in Florida.” Well, we’re old, and I’m sick of frizz and flyaways.

     After spending 3.5 weeks in sunny, low-humidity Florida, I have come to the surprising conclusion that my locks look lovely there, whereas they droop here at home. Three weeks with absolutely zero damp-weather-wilt? That’s a record. No product, no teasing, no rollers
(hot or prickly)--zilch--just lovely waves brushing my shoulders.

     When we moved south, we were very excited about warmer temperatures. The average temp here at home over the past month has been about 29 with winds at 15-20 mph and humidity close to 100%. Are you effen kidding me? I was better off in Michigan in sleet and snow. At least when I whined, people empathized. Now that we don’t shovel or skid, no one cares about my follicle frenzy.

     Men don’t get it. They have no clue how important the coiff is to us. Mr.Wonderful says, “I married her and her hair.” Sometimes, it’s true. My coiff takes on a life of its own. It wakes up each morning, and without any consultation from the rest of me, just does its own thing. Its thing here and in Florida are different. I know that doesn’t seem like a good reason to list the house, but it’s right up there with a lanai and a pool. (I don’t plan to go in the pool, as that would ruin the coiff, but I would enjoy looking at it and doing a photo shoot in low humidity.)

     How many men even think about their hair? My Dad did, as he had a full head of wavy hair until he died in his 90s. But most men don’t give it a thought, particularly Mr. Wonderful who claims his bald pate exposes his intellect. wtf.

     Today’s forecast:  fog, rain, 99% humidity with a chance of a “wintry mix.” Where’s my suitcase?