An Open Letter to My Hair (RIP)

Hair, we had a beautiful thing going you and I. We were together for years and years. I called you Curly and hugged you and pet you and squeezed you, and pat you and pat you and loved you and caressed you…spent hours to make sure every one of you were shiny and proper in the right place, heck I even took you to all my dates (all 5 of them). We went to sleep and woke up together every day, and it didn’t even bother me what you looked like in the morning; I didn’t judge and loved you just the same. And then, as soon as I got married, you started to act strange. You became dull, indifferent, nonchalant, body-less; as if you just didn’t care anymore.

I should’ve listened to everyone when they told me “be careful you’re losing your hair.” I trusted you. How could you leave me for the pillow case, the damn hair brush, and worst of all, the shower drain? The shower drain? If you didn’t like my shampoo or hair gel or all my stress, why didn’t you just say so? What did my scalp and I ever do to you to deserve leaving us naked and exposed?

Do you know what you did to my modeling career in the world of make belief modeling? I could’ve been somebody instead of a bald bum, which is what I am now. I could’ve been a contender. I could’ve been a movie star, a leading man playing next to Salma Hayek, heck I could’ve been Bond…Curly Bond. You and I are over hair. I got more hats than hair now, and that’s ok.